


Bigfoot's a Hoax

by nightmares06, PL1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby Singer's House, Cage, Carrying, Case Fic, Chaos, Driving, G/T, GT, Gen, Growth, Hikers, Hunted, Hunters, Hunting, Minor Character Death, Priest, The Impala - Freeform, Trapped, Vore, Walk, Walking, camper, camping trip, campsite, car, chaos priest, forest, g/t interaction, g/t writing, giant, giant tiny - Freeform, sylvan lake state park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-06-07 10:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 78,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmares06/pseuds/nightmares06, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PL1/pseuds/PL1
Summary: Out in the natural beauty of the Sylvan Lake State Park, a camper’s gone missing and is presumed dead at the same time as rumors about a honest-to-god giant appearing in the forest to stalk hikers and hunters crop up. Sam and Dean will need to unravel the mystery and keep their wits about them to solve this case.





	1. Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:**  This is a standalone story based in **SUPERNATURAL** canon. To read more of nightmares06 and PL1's collaborative writing, please visit the [Masterpost of Stories](https://nightmares06.deviantart.com/journal/Masterpost-of-Stories-685686958).

****It was dark. Joseph could barely make out the moon above through the canopy of tall oaks and pines all around him. Wind whispered through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled. If it wasn’t for the quarter-moon that glowed brightly above, his imagination might have joked around with the idea of a werewolf.  
  
As if  _those_  could be real.  
  
Right now, his problems were much worse than some superstitious bullshit.  
  
There was a grid of thick metal bars on all sides. Thicker around than his hand, none budged when he shook them. If he was to guess, he’d say his cage was the size of a trailer, but in the low light he could hardly tell.  
  
It was his first day back on the job, and this had to happen. Whatever “this” was.  
  
Joseph’s duties didn’t usually involve hiking this far out, but with the recent animal attack at the distant campgrounds, several guys had volunteered to see if there was some sign they could find for  _why_  it had happened. The only conclusive information anyone had was that a kid had died. Blurry pictures and roaring noises were already fading from public memory, only a week later.  
  
The memorial for the kid had been touching. His mama had cried on a news interview and the town had held a nice little vigil. No one could have ever expected this to happen. The park had no history of animal-related deaths, only a few cases of a stupid camper teasing a fox and getting bitten.  
  
Joseph had been walking along investigating some broken branches and strange signs of a very large animal prowling around. His guess was a grizzly got lost and found itself a nice easy target to drag off, but they’d never found any remains or shreds of clothes or a backpack. No one could figure out what happened.  
  
Now, the mysteries had rushed up to greet Joseph on his walk. Literally. One minute he had been surrounded by the sun-dappled open forest, and the next, walls of metal bars sprang up all around him to create a long, rectangular cage.  
  
Hours later, he still hadn’t managed to force any of the springs back near the door. The coils were so wide that his arm would fit in them; they’d need the jaws of life to cut him free. His walkie talkie had never gotten a good enough signal to call for help, and it lay discarded on the floor of the cage.  
  
Joseph was debating on the wisdom of shouting for help when he heard something moving out in the forest.  
  
It came from far off, but it definitely sounded like something heavy falling. As if to confirm his thoughts, it came again. And again, and again, a little louder each time. In spite of himself, Joseph felt his heart quickening. If there was a rockslide, would his metal prison double as a shield?  
  
A rumbling came up from the ground. Joseph edged to the center of his cage and peered in the direction the noise came from. He wanted to run, to try to climb to the top of his prison again and push on the bars, but he knew nothing would work. He had to wait it out. He noticed something as it came closer.  
  
The tremors and sounds weren’t coming from directly uphill.  
  
In the time it took for him to realize that, something came into view. It was dark, so he still couldn’t make out more than a dark shape crashing down and destroying underbrush beneath it. His heart pounded.  
  
Joseph looked up, tried to follow the shape of the thing and figure out just how big of a falling rock he was dealing with. The silhouette just kept stretching up and up, and getting closer and closer, and growing larger and larger.  
  
And larger.  
  
When he realized what was stomping towards him, Joseph’s mouth opened and a scream escaped. He frantically darted to the opposite side of the cage, the  _trap_  he was in, but there was no escape. There never was.  
  
There was a noise above, and he realized the thing, the giant, the  _monster_  was drawing in a sharp breath. Like a gust of wind. Over a hundred feet tall, and it had caught him in a little trap.  
  
“No, no, no, God, please!” Joseph begged, screaming at the top of his lungs. To the monster, to God, to the heavens-- he didn’t know. It didn’t matter. The rumbling voice of the thing drowned out his words but he was too panicked to truly register anything but his own shrill voice and thudding heart.  
  
Displaced air pushed past him as the giant knelt, ready to claim its prey. Joseph felt several tears leaking out of his eyes and continued to try to pry the bars loose from each other. A shadow blocked out the sight of the moon above. Joseph looked over his shoulder and saw an enormous hand with fingers all bigger than his body reaching out to grab the top of the trap.  
  
_This is it. This is how I’m gonna die,_  he thought, a certain detachment falling over him as the end neared. Then, he lurched away from the wall of the cage and fell to its floor as that hand grabbed the cage and  _lifted_  it.  
  
It was all happening too fast, leaving him no time to react. The other hand unlatched one of the sides of the cage and let it fall open. The casual strength could crush Joseph between those fingers like a grape, while he hadn’t even been able to budge that door.  
  
Sobbing, Joseph curled up, waiting for the hand to reach in and coil around him. He imagined being grabbed up and held before the giant’s ruthless, brutish face (though in the darkness he couldn’t see it, his imagination did him the courtesy of filling in the blanks). It would observe that he was on the skinny side, but decently tall.  
  
Then after that it would toss him in its mouth and eat him so it could reset its trap and hope for another easy meal to wander in.  
  
Contrary to Joseph’s thoughts, instead of reaching in for him, the giant paused. When Joseph didn’t move, there came a great sigh from above, and then the floor tilted. He began to slide along with the branches and leaves and other foliage that had been used to hide the cage from sight. In desperation, he scrabbled for purchase, but the inevitable slide towards the opening continued.  
  
He glanced up when he was a few feet from the opening. That giant loomed overhead and blocked out the moon. Joseph only saw its hulking shape, couldn’t even see the eyes, but he  _knew_  they were watching.  
  
Tumbling to the ground, Joseph rolled. Adrenaline surged through his veins, enough to stagger to his feet. He turned away from the shadowy shape and bolted, fast as his feet could move. He didn’t make it ten feet before stumbling over some low underbrush, and when he thudded to the ground again, he  _felt_  that enormous cage dropping to the forest floor.  
  
“No!” he cried, leaping up again. Knowing one of those huge, crushing hands was just behind him, he ran and narrowly avoided crashing into a tree. He needed to get some distance and hide before the giant caught him. If he could just get  _out of sight,_  it would give up. It would find something else to eat.  
  
The ground rumbled beneath Joseph’s feet and he knew that the monster was standing. There was a tremor in the ground as it took a step, and it spurred him onward.  
  
He had to hope he’d make it.   
  
Against a monster like that, hope was all he had.  
  
****

[Artwork by AshleeSherman!](https://www.deviantart.com/ashleesherman)

* * *

**SUPERNATURAL**

* * *

  
Dean was only just waking up as the heavenly aroma of the coffee reached him.  
  
Putting one foot in front of the other in a steady plod, he was solely focused on getting himself over to the table Sam had commandeered in the little outdoorsy cafe they’d found in Richfield, the Impala slowly creeping her way across the country with Dean's unerring sense of direction and Sam's obsession with maps.   
  
Sam had set up shop with his laptop and newspapers on the table and bag draped on the second chair, effectively chasing away anyone else that might try to sit down at the crowded outdoor porch.  
  
There was a little room left for Dean to use at the edge, and that’s where he put his coffee down, mindlessly pushing Sam’s precious mocha latte towards him. Waking up this early in the morning was definitely  _not_  high on Dean’s list, especially after a stressful case like their last. Sam especially had taken it hard when there was no way to save Madison from the werewolf she’d become and Dean didn’t have the heart to bring it up with him again. The first woman his brother had grown attached to ever since losing Jess, and he had killed her himself, a bitter irony.  
  
Sam mumbled a half-hearted “Thanks" as he grabbed the drink, probably not even realizing what it was as he took a sip while staring at the computer screen. What a waste.  
  
“So get this,” Sam said, a portion of his old excitement about the job shining through. After almost two weeks since Madison, he was acting more like his old self, but was still subdued a vast majority of the time. “There’s a weird newspaper report from about a week ago in Sylvan Lake State Park up in Colorado, where a ranger got attacked in the forest. The police are going on about it being some kind of big bear, but he’s insisting that he got caught in some kind of trap. Barely escaped intact.”  
  
Dean took a draught of his coffee, trying to focus his mind and figure out what that had to do with them. “Yeah, so?”  
  
“ _So…_  a few weeks before that, there was an attack in the forest. I found some other articles online. All that got caught on film was some blurry footage, but that time, there was a fatality.”  
  
Sam called up an image on the screen and flipped the computer around. A picture of a teenaged kid stared out at them, all brown eyes and brown hair and the innocence of youth.   
  
“Jacob Andris. A lot of campers and hikers were freaked out, but there’s a lot of rumors circling about it. It sounds like they thought it was some kind of giant animal attack, species unknown. The park ranger says he barely escaped getting eaten, but that’s all they put in the paper and it  _sounds_  like it could be related. Some wendigo could have set up shop out there and is picking people off one by one before it hibernates. I think it’s worth checking out.”  
  
Dean considered his coffee long and hard, rueing the fact that he'd only just sat down. Though he still hated wendigos, a case would help them both focus.   
  
Tossing the rest of the coffee back, Dean let the scalding liquid wake him up fully.  
  
“Colorado? We can be there in just about five hours.”  
  


* * *

  
With both brothers dressed up in crisp suits, the Impala pulled up to a nice house in a suburban area, practically off the cover of a magazine. After the reported attack, the park ranger was on enforced leave of absence until he recovered enough for duty.  
  
Dean suspected the reason for that leave of absence had to do with what the man had seen out there in the forest.  
  
Sam took the lead, walking up the path to the door and pressing the doorbell. A series of musical chimes rang merrily around them.  
  
The first reaction to the happy chimes was a flurry of barking somewhere within the house, followed by the scrabbling of little claws on hardwood. A voice swore and then footsteps ambled over to the doorway. A muffled "Just a sec!" filtered out of the house, and by the time the bolt clicked back and the door opened, Joseph Middleton had a squirming beagle puppy tucked under his arm.  
  
His cautious but friendly smile froze on his face when he beheld the suited men on his porch. After giving his official, frantic statement to the other rangers and the police, he hadn't expected more questioning. Everyone assumed he'd hallucinated from dehydration out there.  
  
They gave him the enforced leave for relaxation, but with two strange men at his door, Joseph didn't feel very relaxed. The puppy kept wiggling and trying to extend its nose towards the potential new friends, tail wagging obliviously.  
  
Pushing the door open wider, Joseph straightened and shifted the dog in his arms so it wouldn't go tumbling out of his grip. "Uh. Hi. How can I help you?"  
  
“Hello,” Sam said, smiling warmly at the man. He had to hold back the urge to reach out and let the puppy sniff his hands, knowing Dean would be on his case for getting out of character. “I’m James, this is my partner Lars.” On cue, they both displayed the fake IDs Dean had created a few weeks back, switching up names like they did often. It was best to keep from using the same alias’ when impersonating the FBI, especially considering the trouble they’d had with law enforcement.  
  
Sam stashed his wallet back in his jacket. “We’re actually here to talk about what happened to you earlier this week. There’s some interest in the park with all these stories happening so soon after that kid’s death. If you don’t mind?”  
  
Joseph's brow furrowed. "Y-yeah, I heard about that chick losing her pony or whatever," he answered. After a nearly awkward pause, he remembered himself and shrugged. "I don't mind, if you don't mind listening to what everyone says is crazy talk," he told them. Then, he glanced down at the beagle in his arms. "Did you want to come in and sit down? I can put him in a pen."  
  
“That would be perfect, thanks,” Sam said with an agreeable smile. He couldn’t resist reaching out to the puppy as Joseph lead them into the house, brushing the soft ears down and letting the beagle get his scent.  
  
Sam and Dean exchanged a look as they sat down, silently agreeing that Sam would continue to lead with the questions. Dean would stay out of it as much as possible. Having two people interrogating a person could be overwhelming, and the fact that Joseph had recently gone through such an out-of-the-ordinary event added to that. Dealing with the supernatural on a day to day basis meant the brothers were used to that with any survivors they found. The rumors from town they’d found certainly pointed to something not natural.  
  
If Joseph didn’t respond to Sam, a little bad cop from Dean usually went a long way.  
  
Folding his hands on the table, Sam leaned in after Joseph sat down across from them. “So, we need to know everything you saw that night in the park. Anything, no matter how crazy. You’d be surprised how many details get missed because people brush them off as ‘crazy.’ ”  
  
Joseph took a slow breath. He remained cynical that they'd believe him any more than the others, but he knew the drill. He stood by what he saw, and he could swear other people had agreed with him, if only they'd agree in more credible places than the local bar.  
  
"Well, I was back on the job after that kid got killed, right? And I thought it was a big bear same as everyone else," he started in, resting his own hands on the table. "Hiking around checking for signs of what might have driven it so far down to the park, when all a' sudden,  _bam!_ " He clapped his hands together for emphasis. "Huge metal trap springs up. I'm thinking, one of those kind for catching rabbits or possums, but this thing was bigger 'n a RV.  
  
"Stuck in that 'til nightfall. Couldn't get out, I mean this thing was seriously huge..." he trailed off and eyed the two sitting opposite him. They still didn't indicate that he should stop or that he was making it all up, so he tentatively continued. "Then I heard this crashing..."  
  
Sam was riveted while Dean sketched down the details that hadn’t been in the papers or online. A rabbit trap bigger than an RV snapping up around a man. Considering what Sam remembered from their hunting lessons years back with Bobby, that would be an impressively sized trap, meant to keep in animals with a simple spring release mechanism.  
  
_Animals the size of a person,_  he thought ruefully to himself as a reminder that nothing they dealt with counted as ‘normal.’   
  
“And you were stuck in that cage when you heard it…” Sam coaxed, encouraging Joseph to continue on with his story. If they were going out there, they needed to know everything they could about what they were dealing with. It could mean the difference between life and death for a hunter. Research, as Bobby often mentioned, was key.  
  
"I-- yeah," Joseph stumbled over the words. "Listen, this is where everyone said I was just seeing things, that it was too dark. But I  _know_  what walked up to that trap, okay? It was a goddamn giant, bigger than most a' the trees." He shuddered as the memory came crashing back. He wished he could just forget it and laugh with the others about his crazy hallucination.  
  
Nothing could erase that feeling of helplessness in the shadow of such a colossal being. "It picked up the trap and dumped me out of it. I swear, I was this close to falling in its hand," he held up his finger and thumb, holding them close together. "It was growling and pissed off but I ran as fast as I could. Probably just got out of its sight before it could catch me. That thing ate that kid, I'm  _positive!_ "  
  
“A giant?!” Dean blurted before he could catch himself, his pen leaving a mark next to his notes. That was  _not_  what they’d been expecting when they’d struck out for the case that morning.  
  
Sam was more reserved, keeping his thoughts to himself. Considering some of the creatures they or their father had run into over the years, a giant wasn’t something he could rule out of the realm of possibility.  
  
“The good thing is, you made it out alive,” Sam said, focusing on Joseph and ignoring Dean. “No matter what it is.” He dug in his jacket and handed over a business card. “My department will be looking into the rumors in the woods, so with any luck we’ll find out what’s out there. Make sure to call us if you hear anything else, okay? No matter how off the wall it might be. Anything can come in handy.”  _And keep our asses in one piece._  
  
Joseph sensed their brief conversation coming to a close and stood respectfully. He took the card and shook Sam's hand, hoping his ever-lingering nerves didn't show too much. "Yeah, if I hear anything, I'll give you guys a call. But listen, you might wanna consider bringing a little more than a flare gun for defense. The thing is way bigger than the papers will say."  
  
“Don’t worry,” Sam smiled as they took their leave. “We can handle ourselves.”  
  
The brothers were silent as they left the suburb behind, both digesting the implications of hunting an honest-to-god  _giant._  
  
“We’re going to need bigger guns,” Sam commented as they pulled into the local motel to regroup for the night.


	2. First Contact

The next few hours were dedicated to research. Not even Dean, who had an extreme dislike of research compared to his book-savvy-and-formerly-college-bound little brother, was going to pass up a chance to find a targetable weakness against a monster that wielded traps the size of  _RVs._  
  
Bigger guns was an understatement.  
  
“David took down Goliath with a slingshot,” Dean grumbled from his bed as he flipped through an ancient text, scribbling ideas down on a notepad.  
  
Sam, set up over at the table with his laptop and scanning any old legends he could find on giants, sent him a flat look. “You really think that’s going to do us any good?” he shot back.  
  
“Well unless you have any beanstalks to cut down out from under the giant, I’m flat out of ideas. Unless you think we should get the grenad--”  
  
Sam pinched his forehead, cutting off Dean’s inevitable plan of  _blow everything up_. The last thing they needed to do was  _set the forest on fire._  “Look, we’ll just go to the park tomorrow, scout the area the park ranger was in and check things out. For all we know he mistook a regular trap for a cage. Maybe it  _is_  just a wendigo or a black dog. Or it  _could_  be a giant. There’s enough lore out there for it.”  
  
“How’n hell did no one ever  _notice_  a giant, though?” Dean asked, his forehead furrowing. “It’s not like a thing like that is easy to hide. From what that guy said, this…  _giant…_  could bench a semi without breaking a sweat.”  
  
Sam shrugged, unable to offer up any ideas. “Maybe it was up in the mountains. There’s plenty of room to hide up there. It could’ve been chased out of its home like a lot of animals are when construction begins. The state park might be the best kind of place for a giant to hide. Miles of woods to hide in, a lake nearby and apparently campers to snack on like that Andris kid.”  
  
“Whatever.” Dean tossed the book from the bed, managing to land it on his duffel. He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I’m telling you, I’m at least bringing the sawed-off tomorrow with  _real_  bullets, and a flare gun. I ain’t being lunch for  _any_  monster, giant or not.”  
  
While Dean slumped down into sleep, Sam stayed up to continue his research. There were no recent accounts from hunters about how to deal with giants, and aside from vague references in history, no one knew how to fight one. It was all unrealistic fights like the legends of dragons, taking on a giant with nothing more than a sword and shield…  _Or a slingshot,_  Sam thought grimly.  
  
They would have to hope their firepower was enough to deal with it, and if not, Dean might just get his wish after all, and get to dig out the grenade launcher from the depths of the Impala like he’d dreamed.  
  
They’d figure it out, one way or the other. That was what the Winchesters were best at.  
  


* * *

  
The morning came with a chorus of birdsong and the sunlight drifting in through the one window of the room. Both brothers were already up, preparing for the hike.  
  
The giant may be giant, but there were miles of untouched country out there where hikers or hunters (big game hunters, not the supernatural kind) could be found, along with the mountains themselves. This was a hunt that could keep them out for the long haul and so they needed to prepare.  
  
Keeping that in mind, Sam packed what he could. Most likely they’d be back to the room to restock if they didn’t find anything, but if there was a trail for this thing, a short trip could turn into days. He made Dean fill his own bag up, both packing what they could for food and weaponry.  
  
Then it was time to head out.  
  
After consulting a map, Dean found an abandoned parking lot a distance from the main campsites. It was most likely used by the park rangers if there was an emergency, or might even be forgotten in the local group mind. Whatever the reason, the dusty dirt lot gave the Impala decent cover to hide in while they searched for a trail.  
  
Sam breathed in the crisp air, tilting his head to glimpse the blue skies above. The forecast called for sun and clouds with no rain, making it the perfect day for a hike. It was hot but not sweltering, and a cool breeze drifted between the trees. After their camping fiasco with the wendigo little more than a year ago, Sam had a compass on hand, following the directions it gave. Last time they’d been with a local expert, though he hadn’t lasted long against the wendigo. This time, if they got lost, they were on their own.  
  
A fact that was proven less than an hour into the hike.  
  
“Can’t get a friggin’ bar on this thing,” Dean growled in annoyance as he held his phone up over his head.  
  
Sam had let his brother take the lead, so his grin was out of sight from Dean’s angle. “You saw the bulletin just like I did. There’s no cell service out here.”  
  
Dean stuffed the phone in his back pocket. “We should get one of those satellite phones like that kid had. At least then we could stay in touch with Bobby.”  
  
“Whatever you say.” With that noncommittal acknowledgement out of the way, Sam took the lead and angled their path towards the sunlight creeping between the trees. If there was a clearing ahead, they would be able to double-check their bearings and reaffirm their direction. They were avoiding the main hiking trails for now. The people who’d reported strange sightings and lost ponies also had a hard time remembering where they were, a red flag for hopping off the trail and blazing their own path.  
  
About ten feet away from the clearing, Sam stiffened. Dean froze behind him, searching for what had his brother’s attention.  
  
There was a broken tree ahead, but that wasn’t what caught Sam’s attention. Instead, it was the broken branches that littered the sides. Up in the distance, a huge gust of air could be heard, on the level of a breeze--  
  
\--but it sounded like a sigh.  
  
By silent agreement, both brothers crept forward, keeping an eye on the strange sights around them. Dean hopped into a depression in the ground, almost slipping on a hidden mudbank. Sam glanced to the side and saw that a tiny stream trickled through the underbrush.  
  
It ended at the depression, and as Sam looked behind them, it restarted. Sam grabbed Dean’s jacket, hauling him out and pointing. Dean sucked in a gasp, spotting the familiar mark of a gigantic  _boot_  in the soft ground.  
  
“ _Crap._ ”  
  
“C’mon, let’s go.”  
  
This time, Dean took point as they edged to the clearing, switching off as naturally as they breathed. Once they made it to the edge of the treeline, Dean froze again in disbelief.  
  
“Bigger guns my ass,” he said weakly, reaching behind his jacket to pull out his colt. “We might need the damn  _military._ ”  
  
The boots that made the huge print in the ground were planted in the earth across the clearing, weighed down by their truly colossal owner. Even crouched, the creature loomed well overhead, and some of the smaller trees in the forest would be cast in that shadow.  
  
The giant, if it stood, would reach a lofty 120 feet, at  _least._  
  
Its dirty clothes were worn and those car-sized boots were caked in enough mud that entire small tree branches could be seen stuck to the side of the huge sole. One light step would prove devastating to either brother, and a monster of that size might never even realize it took out a hunter.  
  
Massive lungs hidden within that muscular torso drew in and released breaths, the source of the breeze Sam heard. The trees nearest the giant all waved their branches from the air.  
  
Before they could come up with a plan, that breathing paused, and the giant lifted its huge head. As if in slow motion, it turned to look over its shoulder. One of its massive hands came into view and braced against one bent knee, and it was a startling realization to note that each finger was the size of a person.  
  
The brothers were outsized by  _fingers._  
  
Then, the face angled towards them, and eyes the size of their heads locked on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so great to see everyone excited for our giant story! It's time to get going! Sam and Dean wait for no one.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Next:** July 15th, 2018


	3. The Birds and the Trees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to deal with angry hunters 101, a lesson by Jacob Andris
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
>  **Next:** July 18th, 2018 at 9pm est

Jacob Andris' heart skipped a beat. His eyes widened at the sight of two normal humans standing at the opposite edge of the clearing. He still hadn't gotten used to how  _small_  everyone looked now.  
  
_They're not small. I'm the giant._  
  
Not too many hikers made it up this far, and even fewer would try with the rumors floating around about the terrible, man-eating giant living out among the cliffs. Jacob tried his best not to wander too much, since he knew he left a very noticeable trail as he broke frail branches away just by brushing by them.  
  
Yet it was hard to get enough food to sustain his new size, and so here he was. He had discovered a young mulberry tree in his wanderings of the higher slopes. He'd hoped to shake free enough of the small fruit to matter, and was considering chewing an entire branch when he heard it. A voice. 

[Artwork by jayadawnyvonne!](https://jayadawnyvonne.tumblr.com/image/175248843871)

Turning to look at them allowed him to spot the gleam of a gun just in time to realize these were no normal hikers. They weren't dressed for it, and they were armed.  
  
Jacob always knew this would come eventually. Rumors about a monster would spread, and people would come in search of glory for taking it down.  
  
_God. Everyone's so scared of me._  He knew these guys wouldn't listen any more than the others had. People took one look at his size and didn't even bother trying to listen to him when he spoke. His voice could shake the trees and sent people running.  
  
He really had become something of a monster, wittingly or not.  
  
Rather than wait around to see what they'd do with those weapons, Jacob stood rapidly to his full height. They dwindled away, and he didn't even pause to see their surely-terrified reaction. He turned and strode briskly into the trees to avoid them. Hopefully they'd give up once they saw how big he was and he could go about his day looking for something filling. It wasn't like they could keep up with him when he walked.  
  
After ten minutes of long strides away from the clearing, he decided to stop again for a moment. He stood taller than the majority of the trees, and he didn't like to walk around too much lest some helicopter spot him from above. If they got a solid fix on his location he’d become an easy target, and a plane with something bigger than that tiny gun might come back.  
  
Jacob crouched down again and released a mournful sigh. Leaves and twigs fell from a nearby maple tree, and a few squirrels started cussing brazenly at him. Jacob paid them little mind.  
  
He had only ever met with fear since he grew. He didn't know how to find out what made him so big, and he couldn't ask for help. The days ran together, and Jacob was already losing hope that he'd have a normal conversation with anyone ever again.  
  
He absently reached down to pick up an old tree branch in his fingers. He rolled it back and forth while his thoughts fell into the lonely, depressing tide that had become more frequent by the day.  
  


* * *

  
“Holy shit.”  
  
Sam ignored the strangled curses that came from behind him, intent on following the fresh path the giant had left behind. One hand on his bag to keep it from striking repeatedly against his side, he almost leapt over a broken branch, running as fast as he could with Dean close at his heels.  
  
It just didn’t seem  _possible._  
  
One step from the giant cleared more ground than either brother could run. There was just no way for them to keep up. If it didn’t leave such a broad path to follow, they wouldn’t have a chance of finding it again so fast.  
  
“Friggin’  _shit._ ”  
  
Despite the continuous curses that passed Dean’s lips, he kept up with Sam without a problem. They both knew how imperative it was for them to track down the giant back to its lair. If they got the chance, they  _had_  to try taking it out with their guns.  
  
Of course, that required the giant to stay in one place for more than a minute, and so far their luck in that corner was atrocious.  
  
Dean was huffing by the time Sam skid to a halt, pausing to listen to the air. He waved his arm as he caught his balance against a tree. “I’m okay!”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. Neither brother was a bad runner or behind on working out, but Sam was the one that was spent each morning doing a jog near their motel room. Longer legs only made it so far put up against determination like Dean’s, and he didn't want to fall behind and endure the neverending teasing that would come with it. Sam had more practice, but Dean was stubborn and  _fast_.  
  
“I think it’s right up ahead,” Sam said softly. This time, he pulled his own gun out.  
  
Dean paused, listening in the direction Sam indicated. The chittering of birds and animals was there, masking the deeper sounds that could only be the giant. He nodded and lead the way, handgun at the ready. Sam paced him a few steps behind, falling into their usual roles on a hunt.  
  
Spotting movement beyond the trees ahead, Dean leapt out from behind, gun cocked. “You’ve eaten your last camper, you sonovabitch!” he declared, advancing on the giant with Sam as backup.  
  
Jacob dropped the branch he held in his fingers and it crashed to the ground. His gaze whipped to the side and his eyes widened again at the sight of the same two guys running at him. They looked so little, running on their comparatively tiny legs, but they covered distance in due time as they ran at him.  
  
This time, both of them had guns out and leveled at him.  
  
Jacob frowned. They were more determined than he'd given them credit for. His size had been enough to scare everyone else off without even trying. It just figured he'd end up dealing with a couple of adrenaline junkies. Just when he thought he'd settled into some kind of shaky routine with things.  
  
He couldn't let them just keep chasing him. If they eventually tired him out, they might actually do some damage to him while he slept. If they were determined enough to run towards someone as large as he, they probably would if given the chance.  
  
He wasn't about to hurt anyone, just to make sure they left him alone. Despite what everyone thought of him, Jacob didn't  _want_  to be the monster. He was lost and scared and alone, and he just wanted someone to listen to him.  
  
He was no fool. He would never get something like that from these guys.  
  
_Who are they to decide I'm just a fucking monster?_  the indignant, angry thought flashed across his mind. He was so done with all of this.  
  
The first time he caught someone in one of his traps by mistake, Jacob had foolishly reached in to pick them up. They had fainted, and ever since then he made a concerted effort not to touch anyone he encountered. They were usually scared enough. This time, he'd allow himself an exception, if only to get these guys scared enough not to chase him again.  
  
With a frown lingering on his face and his shadow extending out around him to block the sun from their sight, he reached towards the pair with both hands.  
  
“Dammit, Sam, move!” Dean shouted, throwing his entire body to the side in an attempt to dodge the grab.  
  
Both of them opened fire in unison, the sound of gunshots shattering the pristine climate. Birds and squirrels that had chittered at the giant in mild aggravation fled the sound of death, vanishing into the trees and into the air.  
  
The dodge wasn’t enough. The giant’s hands eclipsed their escape route, massive fingers brushing Dean’s side even as he fired what he could into the wall of skin rushing at him. Those fingers curled inexorably around him, and for the first time in his life, Dean felt  _small._  
  
He lost sight of Sam in that grasp, but knew that it had to look the same. Unless Sam had by some miracle escaped, they were about to be captured by a giant. “No!” Dean cried out, trying to twist away from the thick, creviced skin closing in around him. A massive thumb, bigger and more powerful than Dean could ever be, brushed down in front of him and in seconds his arms were forced to lower. “Sammy!”  
  
Jacob aimed to be as careful as he could with both of them even as he pinned their arms so they couldn't shoot at his hands anymore. The bullets were tiny, but stung like needles. Every shot found its mark. It wasn't like they had small targets to deal with.  
  
Both of them were encased in a hand. Jacob did his best not to squeeze them, but he didn't leave them room to squirm free, either. He didn't want to  _hurt_  them, but from the thrashing, they were  _fighters._. He only wanted to scare them, despite how much remorse filled him at the sound of that panicked little voice. It echoed in his head.  
  
Once he had them, he swept them easily off the ground. He didn't even know if they were struggling. Either he was too strong to allow them any movement, or the stinging in his hand was overpowering the tiny people.  
  
_They're not tiny. I'm big._  
  
And I'm the monster here.  
  
Tucking his hands close to his chest, Jacob pushed himself to a stand. His shoulders brushed past branches as they all soared upwards. Only once there was no risk of smacking the little guys against a branch did he move them away from his chest to check on them.  
  


* * *

  
Even as the ground receded beneath his boots, Dean never stopped struggling. He desperately tried to thrash from side to side, trying to wriggle free so there was enough room to grab the machete that was stashed inside his jacket.  
  
He didn’t want to think about what was about to happen.  
  
All the accounts of the survivors agreed on one thing: That if they hadn’t run, they were about to get eaten. Jacob Andris, the known victim of the giant, was gone as though he’d never existed. There was no body ever found, no evidence of his clothing…  
  
If he’d been  _eaten alive,_  there wouldn’t be.  
  
“Goddammit, Godzilla, let us go!” Dean snapped, trying to cover up his fear that any second now, they’d be shoved into the massive mouth that hung above them. His blood chilled at the sight, realizing they were small enough to fit inside without a problem. It was almost impossible to focus on anything else, especially not after he caught a glimpse of the white rocks inside. Teeth. Teeth big enough to cut either brother in half, snap them like a twig.   
  
He distantly wished they’d left a message with Bobby to let him know what they were hunting. If they vanished like this, all he would have to find of them was an abandoned Impala. That was, if the police didn’t get to her first.  
  
“Wait!” Sam shouted, trying to slow things down and give them time for a new plan. “If you do this you’ll regret it!”  
  
Jacob resisted the urge to sigh yet again. He saw blind terror and nothing else on their little faces, as expected. The guilt gnawed at his core, but he didn't try to talk to them or convince them to listen.  
  
It was better this way. They didn't want to listen. They just worried he might eat them.  
  
He did have to pause to think about what to do next. He definitely couldn't take them back to his camp, and he couldn't drop them either. If he put them back down, they'd just follow his trail again. What he needed was to keep them in place long enough to try to lose their trail again.  
  
Nearby trees rustled around them, providing the answer. The proud pines only reached Jacob's chest, but to them it would be a long climb to the ground. At least the branches grew low enough that they'd be able to climb down without falling too far.  
  
Stooping down, Jacob lowered his hands towards two trees that stood close to each other. Once his hands were close enough, a mere foot or two from the higher branches of the trees, he opened up his fingers to release his captives.  
  
“Son of a bitch!” This time, Dean’s outcry was far less assured as he found himself falling towards the tree. A hand brushed against a branch, and he clung with a desperation born of life preservation. Over on his own tree, Sam did the same, though his terror was reserved for the giant more than the height.  
  
Terror, replaced swiftly by confusion as the giant turned to walk off, leaving the two hunters stranded a hundred feet in the air. Crashing footsteps receded into the distance, leaving behind a corridor of forest filled with broken branches and falling leaves.  
  
"Ah, come  _on!_  "  
  
Dean's frustrated shout rang through the treetops, though it didn't rustle the branches the way the giant did as he breathed. It wasn't lost on Dean that the giant was getting away all over again, with them in a terrible spot to try and follow.  
  
Clinging to the branch, Dean briefly glanced at the ground and had to quickly look away lest his body betray him with a dizzy spell. Climbing elevator shafts and jumping fences was one thing, being stuck at the top of a massive tree was something completely different.  
  
"It'll be okay, Dean," Sam said reassuringly. "We found his trail, we can regroup at the Impala and think things through before we go any further." There was a part of him that found himself wondering at the actions of the giant. Nothing was adding up.  
  
Gritting his teeth together, Dean determinedly started to inch his way down. "No, we  _can't,_ " he growled out in stubborn protest. "We found his friggin'  _trail_  and if we  _lose_ it we'll have to start  _all over_  again tomorrow." Every few words was punctuated with ferocity as he forced his arms to move, channeling his frustration into the bark as he made his halting way down.  
  
"But why do you think he didn't eat us?" Sam asked idly as he followed on his own, albeit much quicker and with more grace than Dean's attempts. He was down on the ground while Dean was still twenty feet up in the air. "He had us in hand. Like, literally,  _in his hands._ "  
  
Dean shuddered, trying to erase the feeling of helplessness that had come from fingers longer than he was tall closing in around him. No way out, no way to move or escape. The machete he had on hand was out of reach in there. He couldn't even risk firing the gun without the possibility of injuring himself. His duffel bag might be pinned to his side, but that skin, though pliant enough to conform to his body, held him motionless. Completely and totally helpless, something a hunter should never be.   
  
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Sammy,” Dean said gruffly as he let go of the tree a few feet above the ground to get down fast. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not planning on spending the night in a  _stomach._ ”  
  
Sam shook his head, his brow furrowed. “Something’s not right,” he mumbled. “I don’t know if that’s what this is about.”  
  
Hitching up his duffel, Dean stalked in the direction of the giant’s path, his annoyance and determination blending together. “This time I’m using the shotgun,” he growled. “Or the flare gun. If that doesn’t work we’re going to need assault rifles  _and_  the grenade launcher.”  
  
While Dean forged his way ahead, Sam brought up the rear, mulling over everything that had happened. First, they found the giant and all that came of it was him running off. Sam could brush that aside as maybe the giant wasn’t hungry, and if it wasn’t hungry he might avoid people. It would be an important survival tactic for something that had gone unnoticed up until the last few weeks.  
  
Second, they found him and finally engaged, but it didn’t have the desired effect. To the contrary, their attack had been brushed off like they were beating him with a feather duster. The bullets might as well have not existed.  
  
None of it was adding up to the story told by the survivors, and Sam wanted to get to the bottom of it.  
  
Caught up in his thoughts, Sam didn’t notice when the path in front of him changed from a blending of browns and greens to a solid silver. He let out a cry when he stumbled over a flat, metallic surface and fell to his knees.  
  
And stared.  
  
“What the hell…”


	4. Reaching Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for blood

Dean threw a look over his shoulder. “Are you even listening?” he asked irritably. “We  _need_  a plan…” He trailed off when he spotted what Sam hesitantly pulled out of the ground.  
  
Sam couldn’t stop staring at the round coin. He brushed a hand over the familiar face at an entirely new level, and then touched the ridges on the sides with a hesitant finger. It was a  _quarter._  Just over a foot and a half tall and thicker than two fingers, it had an impressive level of heft.  
  
Dean stomped his way over, a fascinated grin splitting his face. “Awesome!” he crowed, reaching out to take it from Sam. Sam let it go as he pulled himself back to his feet and brushed off a scattering of pine needles and dirt from his pants. “This thing is huge!”  
  
There was no resisting a smirk at that, though Sam’s uneasiness with the case grew. When it came to money… in this case,  _giant_  money, Dean had a laser focus.  
  
“We should take it with us,” he suggested softly, glancing around at the forlorn woods around them. “It might be tied up in the case.”  
  
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Dean chuckled as he shoved things aside in his duffel bag. No matter how he shoved it into the bag, the quarter stuck out halfway and looked ridiculous, but in it went. “Wonder what a quarter like that’s worth,” he said wistfully.  
  
“Dunno.” Sam looked up at the sky, staring at the way branches a hundred feet in the air over their heads were broken from when Jacob was making his way past. “But I have a feeling we might want to find out where it came from.”  
  
The next twenty minutes passed peacefully as they tracked the giant’s passage, but Sam glanced over at Dean a few times just to find him stroking the side of the giant quarter with a fascinated gleam in his eyes. This case was turning into the weirdest they’d found, hands down.  
  
Up ahead, the sound of rushing water came, along with something more. Maybe it was the way the ground rumbled under their feet, but Sam somehow  _knew_  that the giant they were chasing all over God’s green earth was up ahead. Either lying in wait or… something.  
  
“I have an idea,” he hissed to Dean. “Follow my lead and  _don’t_  shoot unless something goes wrong. Got it?”  
  
“You better know what you’re doing,” Dean snapped back. He pulled out his sawed-off, loaded with buckshot. “I’m not watching you get snatched up for brunch, whatever goes down.”  
  
Sam had to shrug. That was fair. He didn't want to be food either.  
  
Coming up to the last tree, he took a deep breath, and stepped out into the open with his handgun held out in front.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob sat on his knees next to one of the smaller waterfalls he'd found in his wide expanse of mountain forest. Falls like these were his best source of running water, and his easiest chance at getting clean. He knew of several throughout the woods, something he never would have discovered if not for this.  
  
He sat there with his hands under the cool flow of water and thought that it wasn't that much of a blessing. He’d much rather be at home right now.  
  
He winced as the water rinsed past his hands. Several pinpricks stung on his palms, from the microscopic bullets embedded in his skin. He might not be easily taken down by such little guns, but it still hurt enough to bother him. He needed to get those bullets out or risk infection, but Jacob had no idea how to do that.  
  
He hadn't gotten many injuries out here, but he also wasn't prepared for one. Anything could happen, and he was completely alone.  
  
Of course, it was then that he noticed that he  _wasn't_  alone. One of the plucky little guys stepped out from behind a tree, and the other followed. Jacob's brow pinched with confusion and worry as their determination spoke loud and clear. He would not be able to get rid of them unless he used more force than he was willing to.  
  
He caught sight of the guns they carried, noting that this time one of them wielded a shotgun. Jacob had been grazed by one of those his first night at his new size. They stung even worse than the tiny gunshots in his hands. And now, with him seated, his face and eyes would be easy targets for that brash little guy to take out.  
  
Jacob couldn't afford to be blinded.  
  
"Wait!" Jerking his hands out from under the waterfall, Jacob threw them up in defense, palms out. Water, gallons of it, splashed from them and fell onto the small humans while Jacob held up his hands and uncrossed his legs to begin scooting backwards.  
  
“Dude, what the hell!” Dean spluttered. In one swift move, he was drenched from head to foot, water dripping from his flattened spike of hair all the way down to his boots. He jerked the sawed-off back, praying that it would still fire despite the water that inundated it. The earthquakes caused by the giant were the last thing on his mind while he tried to get his best weapon ready to fire.  
  
“No, wait!” Sam said, throwing his hands towards Dean and the giant both. He met the uncertain brown eyes above, wondering why the giant looked so afraid of  _them_.  
  
Not wanting Dean to try shooting before there was a chance to unravel the mystery, he broke gaze with the giant to throw a look at Dean. “We just want to talk, right?” Back to the giant, and Sam took a few uncertain steps forward. “I’m not here to shoot you. We just need to know what’s going on.”  
  
Jacob paused, nearly frozen near the waterfall while he stared. For one thing, he wasn't hearing panicked yelling from them. For another, he was hearing actual, rational words that didn't come directly out of terror for their lives. They were clearly wary and scared of him, but there was more to it.  
  
The taller of the two was  _talking to him._  Jacob blinked down at him, hardly able to believe it.  
  
After all this time, there was someone actually talking to him. There was no begging, no  _Please don't eat me_  to appeal to his monstrous heart. Jacob took a few deep breaths and his brow pinched.  
  
"You should just leave me alone," he suggested, though his heart ached to say it. He didn't  _want_  to be left alone. Uncertain, no way to ever go home. "I don't need more scratches all over my hands. Aren't you afraid anyway?"  
  
Sam didn’t stop moving forward, slowly inching his way close to the giant. “We can’t do that,” he said, knowing it was true in more ways than one. Even if they wanted to, they couldn’t take the risk of leaving a bonafide giant alone in the forest, up to who-knows-what. They might not have a way to stop him, but they had him in their sights, and he needed to _stay_ in their sights.  
  
“Sam…” Dean warned from behind, the sawed-off nearly twitching up from the strain of watching his little brother get close to a huge unknown they had no control over.  
  
“I’m not afraid of you,” Sam said gently, responding to the forlorn voice. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the giant-- who looked a lot closer to a lost and scared kid than the ferocious man eater in all the stories floating around town-- was more afraid of  _them_  than they were of him.  
  
He held his gun out to the side in a demonstration of good will. “Look, I won’t shoot you if you don’t grab me, okay?” Sam knelt cautiously to put the gun down, ready to leap aside at a moment's notice. “No one needs to get hurt.”  
  
Jacob pursed his lips and didn't try to hide his glance at Dean. That shotgun was still ready to fire at him. Yet he couldn't ignore the monumental level of openness that came with the guy putting his gun on the ground. It wouldn't be ready to put more little pinpricks in Jacob's skin.  
  
Despite the shotgun still held ready, Jacob cautiously lowered his hands. Not all the way, but far enough to see them better. The unconvinced frown on his face became more visible.  
  
They still made him nervous with their too-brash chase through the forest. "Tell me why I shouldn't stick you in another tree and walk off. Why are you following me?"  
  
“Because we need to know what’s going on,” Sam replied without missing a beat. One more step towards the giant. Dean had his back, but somewhere deep inside, Sam  _knew_  he was doing the right thing. “People are scared, and one camper’s dead. Until we get to the bottom of things, me an’ my brother aren’t going anywhere. You can stick us in another tree. We’ll just come find you again.”  
  
Jacob drew his boots back further. There was still a distance between them, but it was too weird to have someone so small coming closer. All anyone had done for weeks was stumble away.  
  
"What's going on is a good question," he replied, feeling cheeky in spite of himself. "I was just minding my own business when a couple guys with guns showed up and attacked me."  
  
“I seem to remember  _you_  running off first,” Sam shot back without missing a beat. “We didn’t have a chance to talk  _or_  shoot before you were heading for the hills.” He didn’t mention the fact that they probably  _would_  have shot at him first. Discretion was a better plan considering he was within reach of arms that were easily longer than two Impalas.  
  
Sam came to a sudden and complete halt when an idea occurred to him. “We need to know what’s going on. If you’re willing to talk, I can help you with those bullets.” He waved a hand at the huge hands nearby. “I’ve got practice.”  
  
Jacob's fingers reflexively curled close around his palms. Just brushing a fingertip over any one of the numerous little cuts sent a sting flaring through them. He knew, and they probably knew as well, that he wouldn't be getting the bullets out on his own. He may be able to survive leaving them in, but it would be annoying to try to hold anything. He needed his hands for survival, not to mention there was a chance of infection.  
  
He still didn't lower them. Distrust was all over his face, and he could just see them using his complacency to leap in with a knife or something and try to get him to bleed more. He might have a lot  _more_  blood, but he could still bleed out.  
  
"Just ... maybe get your buddy to stop pointing his gun at me? Shells don't feel much better. I even promise not to put anyone in a tree this time." Despite his efforts to keep an edge to his voice, Jacob felt some hope leaking in. This guy might actually listen to him. Then maybe they could figure out how to cure him.  
  
“Dean?” Sam asked, chancing a glance over his shoulder.  
  
Dean’s lips were thin, and Sam knew that every fiber in his body was fighting against lowering his gun. Sam was within reach of a  _giant._  Another part of him was arguing that he needed to listen, that Sam knew what he was doing as much as Dean did. Sometimes more.  
  
After a tense few seconds passed, Dean scoffed and lowered the sawed-off. “ _Fine._ ” He jabbed a finger in the giant’s direction. “But if you make one wrong move while he’s there, don’t count on any second chances!”  
  
Sam was proud of his older brother for that, knowing how far they’d both come from the days when a monster was a monster, and there was nothing else to it. From vampires choking down cattle blood to a werewolf who didn’t know she was a monster, they’d seen more grey in the world than their father had ever told them about. This guy was huge and Sam knew very well how easily he could snatch them both up and crush them, but more and more it was like talking to a regular teenager. Lost, alone, and hurt, with a hopeful look in his eyes.  
  
“He did his part,” Sam coaxed. “Now, let me look at your hands.”  
  
Jacob was just as hesitant to agree. Even after setting the conditions, he was wary of putting his hands within reach. Maybe the shotgun was lowered, but Sam could leap at him with a knife before he could prevent the attack. Guys like these were surely packing more than just two weapons.  
  
Despite his misgivings, Jacob reasoned that he'd be able to take care of it if they did attack. He was definitely the one with more power here. He may be loathe to use it, but he was willing to protect himself.  
  
His hands lowered, no longer blocking his face at all. He had to shift his legs, and he did so with plenty of consideration for the wary looks on their faces. The ground rumbled lightly beneath their much smaller boots.  
  
Finally, Jacob was clear to lower his hands cautiously to the ground, palm up and fingers slightly curved. The red from his injuries glinted in the sun. "Alright. There."

[Artwork by AshleeSherman!](https://www.deviantart.com/ashleesherman/art/commission-gentle-giant-619267952)  
  
Sam took a deep breath as he surveyed the damage he and Dean had wrought in their earlier attack. The waterfall couldn't remove the bullets, and if they didn't come out now before the skin sealed they might never come out.  
  
Another deep breath. Putting himself in those hands was easier said than done.  
  
Sam finally got himself to step forward, and reached into his bag to find the first aid kit he always kept by his side. More than once, he had stitched up Dean on the fly.  
  
“I'm just getting out some tools,” Sam said, keeping his even tone. “No weapons.” Withdrawing his hand into the light, he brandished the slender tweezers, made longer than a standard set. A fleeting thought passed through his mind, wondering if the giant could even see something so small.  
  
The next few steps cleared the distance between Sam and the hands and he found himself wondering at the size. It was obvious why their struggles had meant nothing. Sam was one of the tallest people he knew, but he was  _shorter_  than some of the fingers that stretched out before him. Minute twitches he would never see on his own hand were as clear as day, and Sam could swear he saw the skin moving an infinitesimal amount that could only be caused by a powerful pulse.  
  
Then, he took that fateful first step onto the hand. One step, and Sam was completely at the mercy of the giant by choice. The pulse throbbed under him and a twitch in the thick skin threatened to toss him off, but he endured. If Dean saw Sam sprawl like that, he could overreact and then they'd be back at square one, only with Sam in the giant’s grasp from the start.  
  
“This  _will_  hurt,” Sam warned as he knelt by the first puncture wound. “There's not much I could do to stop that.”  
  
"That's-- nngh," Jacob didn't get to finish his statement before a spike of pain accompanied Sam's first motions with the smallest pair of tweezers Jacob had ever seen. The bullet pulled out of Jacob's skin came with a bit of gleaming red and a twitch from his hand. Despite the surprise, Jacob managed to avoid twitching enough to buck Sam off.  
  
It blew his mind that Sam was so outmatched by his size that a simple twitch could throw him to the ground. His little limbs were like twigs and his fingers were almost impossible for Jacob to even see. The boots made the lightest pressure on his palm.  
  
Sam was that vulnerable just by one hand, and yet he'd placed himself there deliberately. He had extended his trust enough to let himself crouch where he could so easily be closed up in a fist.  
  
If Jacob did that, no amount of firepower from Dean would stop him.  
  
He kept his hands as still for Sam as he could while the little guy worked. He didn't want to risk throwing off this delicate truce they had managed, and as Sam helped him, Jacob felt a warm feeling building in his chest. Hope, something he’d thought lost, returned.   
  
All because of the little guy on his hands.  
  
It was, admittedly, fascinating to watch someone so small moving around. When they weren't flailing in panic, at any rate.  
  
It was slow work, making sure to get each and every bullet out. Sam paused to survey the first hand, glancing around to see if he’d missed any of the puncture wounds. Satisfied, he glanced over at Dean, who waited by the treeline with a wary cast over his face.  
  
“You’ve got the whiskey,” Sam called to his older brother. “You mind?”  
  
Dean’s face was stuck in a deep frown, but he approached the hand slowly. Even if it was only so he could hiss at Sam the moment he was close enough to whisper. “Sam, what the hell? Since when do we  _help_  monsters? Especially when  _we’re_  the ones that shot him?” Dean stepped lightly out of the way when a finger twitched near him, distrust on his face.  
  
Sam shook his head, his hair sticking to his forehead. They were both drenched from those tense seconds at the beginning when Jacob managed to splash them. “Something’s not right and you know it. We need to know more, and this is the best way.”  
  
He held out a hand expectantly, and Dean passed over the flask. “Besides,” Sam said in a louder timbre, “you’ve got more whiskey back in the car.”  
  
Dean backed off again, keeping a hand on his sawed-off. Sam unscrewed the flask and sprinkled the alcohol over the wounds close to him, then hopped to the other hand to finish up. This was the hand that had snatched him up, so there were fewer bullet holes.  
  
This time, Jacob was slightly more prepared for the sting. His temptation was strong to pull the first hand away to examine the wounds, and his fingers twitched. The gun that Dean clung to caught his eye, and he decided to wait. If that guy was grumpy even about giving up some whiskey to help sterilize the wounds, Jacob didn't want to push his luck.  
  
And he was lucky indeed. In no time at all, Sam had pulled the last bullet from his hands. His thumb twitched from the little sting. Muscles relaxed under Sam's boots as the pains all dulled to something far more manageable. It was just as satisfying as removing splinters.  
  
"Wow," he breathed, sending a gust of wind into the trees over their heads. "That helped a ton... thanks." Surprise peppered his tone as he stared at his hands and the person who stood on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A leap of faith for Sammy and Jake!!
> 
> **Next:** July 22nd, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	5. Home Sweet Home

Sam hopped down from the huge hand, more comfortable with his feet on solid ground that didn’t twitch and flex under his boots. After their earlier capture and subsequent stranding in a tree, it was a shock to be allowed to do so without a giant hand snatching him up again. This reaffirmed Sam’s determination that there was something wrong with the situation, and they needed to untangle it before they took any actions they’d regret, whether it be finding a way to  _kill_  this giant--   
  
\--or help him.  
  
“Make sure you don’t get those dirty,” Sam cautioned as he backed towards the handgun he’d left on the ground, compelled to keep a possible threat in his sights. “They’re small enough that they should close up quickly, so long as you don’t irritate them. The whiskey will help you from getting an infection.”  
  
Stooping down, he picked up his gun and tucked it back in his pants and gestured at Dean to relax a little.  _Trust me,_  his eyes offered.  
  
Dean’s lips thinned, but he held tight to the shotgun. It was their only protection, with the flare gun tucked in the duffel and the grenade launcher left in the car. He didn’t want to give it up.  
  
“We’re here because of all the rumors that are spreading in town,” Sam explained, keeping his tone gentle. “They’re talking about a man-eating giant that a man barely escaped.”  
  
Jacob picked up his hands so he could curl them into loose fists and tuck them closer to himself. Now that they were on the mend, he didn't need to present them as a target. Both the little guys were still armed. Part of him was disappointed that they had come for the rumors after all, but it didn’t surprise him.  
  
He lifted his head for a brief moment to glance in the direction of the park. He couldn't go there anymore.  
  
"I guess they think they're talking about me," he admitted. Even his quieter tones would have no trouble overpowering their little voices. They had to shout to keep up with his volume.  
  
"I'm a  _giant,_  I guess, but I never ate anyone that I caught, I swear! I let them go as soon as I found them stuck," he insisted. He tried to keep his voice down, but he  _had_  to defend himself. Jacob didn't want to be the monster that everyone decided he was. He didn't even understand how any of it was possible, let alone  _actually happening_  to him. "I just try to mind my own business up here since everyone's scared of me."  
  
Both brothers found themselves taking an unconscious step back as Jacob’s voice rose, not prepared for the emphatic response to Sam's query. This was their first interrogation where they were completely outmatched, down to the volume of their words.  
  
“That might explain all these ‘miraculous escapes,’ " Dean muttered to Sam. The idea that nearly everyone could escape something so huge, something fast enough to catch them at a walking pace had baffled them both.  
  
Sam nodded, but pressed on. There was still one detail that didn't fit with what the giant was saying, and they had to know the truth, even if it upset him.  
  
“Not everyone made it back alive,” Sam said steadily. “Jacob Andris vanished weeks ago to the same reports of something huge and unexplainable attacking the campgrounds. If you didn't kill anyone, what happened to him?”  
  
Hearing his name spoken aloud for the first time in weeks sent a small jolt of familiarity and, of all things, homesickness through Jacob's heart. He was dead to everyone. His mom, his friends ... they all thought he was gone forever when he was right there, wishing someone might listen to him. Might help him.  
  
These guys were his best bet. "That wasn't an  _attack,_ " he defended. Then, he backtracked. "Jacob Andris didn't die. That's  _me,_ " he placed one of his massive hands on his massive chest. "I don't know how it happened, but suddenly I was just ... Everyone was small and screaming and somebody shot at me. I had to run away. I didn't mean to knock anything over, I was just trying to get away."  
  
“How do we know you're telling the truth?” Dean asked, more of a demand than a question. He took a step forward. “You can say whatever you want, but we're gonna need concrete  _proof_  of who you are. I've seen more than one monster steal someone's identity and use it against their friends and family. I won't let that happen again.”  
  
“If you're really Jacob, we want to help,” Sam soothed, trying to make up for Dean's harsh words.  
  
Jacob chose to keep his eyes on Sam when he nodded sheepishly. The demands snapped up at him were quiet when powered by such comparatively small lungs, but they still carried plenty of power with them.  _Monster_  lingered in the air and Jacob knew just how important that proof would be. If he couldn't convince them, they'd go right back to shooting at him and he could say goodbye to his chance.  
  
"I'm ... I don't ..." he floundered, unsure of what he'd do or say. Then, his eyebrows shot up as he remembered something. "I've got my  _wallet,_ " he announced with more relief than triumph.  
  
He reached behind himself, ever watchful of their reactions to his movements. They looked like they could bolt or open fire at the drop of a dime, so he was careful as he dug his wallet from his back pocket. He flipped it open and lowered it to the ground several feet away from them, showing off his driver's license in its plastic sleeve.  
  
“Happy now?” Sam asked Dean. He walked over, brushing a curious hand over the plastic sleeve. It was thicker and more textured than what could be found in their wallets, but that added to the realism. If someone was making a fake wallet, they might try making it match up to what people  _expected_  to find, not what it really looked like twenty times its size. “I don’t think you could find a Kinkos to make a license this size.”  
  
“Hey, don’t doubt my skills. I am a maverick,” Dean shot back. But he accepted the proof, tilting his head back to meet Jacob’s eyes and lowering his sawed-off at last to ease some of the tension. “How’n hell have you  _survived_  all this time?” he asked, waving a hand up at Jacob’s size. “It’s been  _weeks_  since you vanished.”  
  
Jacob's cautious expression brightened. He pulled the wallet away to flip it closed and tuck it back into his pocket, but his eyes remained glued to the pair on the ground. They seemed to have accepted his story, and he could scarcely believe how  _good_ that felt. He might actually get somewhere after so long.  
  
"I found a good place to camp," he answered proudly. He glanced over his shoulder, seemed to consider something, and then looked back down at them. "It's a really long way for you guys to walk. Lemme show you."  
  
With that, Jacob's hands returned, scooping under the two brothers this time instead of hastily snatching them up. He cupped his hands close together and got to his feet, bringing the pair along for the ride as he turned to stride back towards his camp.  
  
“Sonova--"  
  
Dean’s curse was cut off as he flailed on the strange new surface, not expecting to find himself suspended so high up in the air in less than a second. Jacob was  _fast._ There was no time to even cry out a warning or try to dodge. They were just up in the air suddenly, huge footsteps down below crashing through the forest and making Jacob’s upper body sway in time with his gait.  
  
“Whoa!” Sam was quick to grab the sawed-off before Dean could pull it up and threaten the teenager-turned-giant. “Don’t, Dean,  _don’t._ ”  
  
“Who the hell does he think he is…”  
  
Despite the urgent words passed between them, both brothers kept their voices hushed in the hope that Jacob wouldn’t hear them speaking. Missing kid or not, there was no way of knowing if the change in his stature would affect the rest of him in any way. Werewolves started out as regular people, but something about the transformation made them into mindless beasts, ruled by feral instinct.  
  
“Dean, he’s just a kid,” Sam hissed back. “Let’s see where he’s taking us. I think he’s been alone for all this time, and the only interaction he’s had with people is a lot of running and screaming… or shooting. How would that make you feel? We might be the first regular conversation since he changed.”  
  
Dean glared at Sam. “ _Fine._ ” He hitched up his duffel and shoved the quarter aside to put his sawed-off away. For the moment. “But if I see any giant stew pots, all bets are off. This handsome devil is  _not_  on the menu.”  
  
Jacob couldn't hear the little whispers down on his hands, but they inexorably drew his gaze anyway. He followed a path he'd come to learn by heart, so he didn't need to watch where he went as much. He watched the pair with a plain, innocent fascination. Two whole people were seated on his hands, holding a hushed conversation in voices so small he couldn't make out their words.  
  
Their little movements and shifts on his hands barely registered. Jacob was glad they hadn't fallen out of his hands when he picked them up; the other, more frightened people might have tried. These guys seemed to have level heads, even if they remained wary.  
  
He understood. He'd be scared of a giant, too, but that was why the fact that they had chosen to hear him out buoyed his hopes higher than they’d been in a long time.  
  
Jacob noticed something gleaming and throwing back sunlight sticking out of Dean's little duffel bag as the tiny guy shifted the weapons inside. It brought a knowing grin to his face, and he curled a thumb inward to nudge at the quarter. "Where'd you find that?" he asked.  
  
Dean jerked away from the thumb, caught off guard once more by how fast Jacob could move. “Watch it!” he bitched, trying to bat at a digit the size of his body and far more powerful. His hand hit the side of Jacob’s thumbnail, grazing off without a hope of leaving a mark.  
  
Sam could only  _just_  barely hide a snicker at Dean’s discomfit, and the sight of Dean trying to fend off an honest to goodness giant by  _batting at him_. “We found it when we were following your trail,” he managed to get out while holding in his laughter. “It’s just one thing that made this entire situation stink. If there was just a man-eating giant in the woods, why would we find a giant quarter? Nothing was adding up.”  
  
Offended, Dean put an arm protectively over his duffel. to guard it from any more nudges. “Besides, we  _found_  this in the middle of the woods. Finders keepers.”  
  
Jacob laughed, and realized it was the first time he'd done so in weeks. It felt good to have a reason to smile, even if that reason was someone watching him warily as if he'd tried to steal their wallet, all over a single quarter. If he could put his hands up in surrender, he would.  
  
"I won't take it," he promised.  
  
Dean shifted in his seat, pulling his duffel bag onto his lap. “See that you don’t,” he said sternly, still warily eyeing their surroundings.  
  
Jacob smirked. "You keep that quarter, maybe you'll find a really big gumball machine." He didn't have much need for a quarter at his size, anyway. Jacob's concerns were well beyond things like money out here. Making sure he could survive another day mattered the most.  
  
He noticed belatedly how high up the two of them were. His standing height put them above the level of most of the trees. He cupped his hands closer to protect against them falling over the side. "We'll get to my camp, soon. I found a neat place near a cliff."  
  
Sam had a hard time knowing where to focus first. Jacob’s laugh was loud and booming, a sound that could echo across the countryside without any visible effort and could easily drown the brothers’ voices out. Then there was the fact that they could be moved around just as easily. Sam could hear a powerful heart thudding away inside Jacob’s chest, keeping the gigantic teenager on his feet and managing to push blood through what must be  _miles_  of veins and capillaries. He reached a hand tentatively out, pressing it against the forest green hoodie that covered Jacob’s muscular torso so he could feel the pulse for himself. His touch was so light that Jacob didn't even notice.  
  
Never before had they been carried so effortlessly, and though Jacob was turning out to be nothing like the rumors that flooded the town and park, he still had  _all_  the power. Wherever his camp was, they were going, at a speed that they wouldn’t have a prayer keeping up with on foot.  
  
“Is the cliff how you stayed hidden for so long?” Sam asked, tilting his head back to try and meet Jacob’s eyes. If they kept the conversation going, it was easier to forget they were technically being taken against their will by a giant. Deep inside, he wanted to find a way to help this kid, the way he couldn’t help Madison. Find a way to get him back to normal after weeks of uncertainty and fear.  
  
Jacob shrugged, and then decided not to do that again while they were in his hands. The motion didn't all translate down his arms, but it was probably enough that they noticed the slight bounce. He shot them an apologetic glance, more worry in his eyes than he'd admit to as he met Sam’s tiny gaze. He didn't want to lose his chance with the first people to listen to him in so long.  
  
"I guess it helps," he said, trying to move past his mistake. "I also try not to move around  _too_  much during the day. I make sure to hide below the tree line when I stop somewhere."  
  
It probably wasn't lost on them that it was hard to hide all of his bulk. Jacob started out tall, a lofty six foot five and well-built. His new size put that to shame, and it forced him away from everyone. He knew well enough what would happen if he attracted heavier weapons than the little shotgun that Dean had stuffed in his bag. Jacob would be shot down like a dog before he had a chance to explain, and the possibility still scared him. He tried to smile past his worries. "I figure if I mind my own business, no one has to get all scared and they won't send troops after me, y'know?"  
  
Sam and Dean shared a heavy look, knowing that wasn’t enough. It was only a few weeks after Jacob’s presumed death and the town was  _crawling_  with rumors about the ‘terrible, man-eating giant’ in the woods. If the police or the military didn’t take notice of him, other hunters would.  
  
Hunters that might not stop to ask questions the way they had. Hunters that would shoot first, and then shoot again and never ask questions. If Jacob was cornered, he might be forced to lash out to protect himself, and that would only draw in more. It would become a matter of time before there was no other way out.  
  
Sam cautiously reached out and put a hand on one of the fingers close by. “Jacob, we’ll do our best to help fix this for you. No one should lose their family and their life like you did.”  
  
If they could get him back to normal, the threat would be over. It was an optimistic thought that Sam found himself latching onto. There was no way of knowing if it was reversible or not, but they  _had_  to try.  
  
“That means we’re going to need to know  _everything_  that happened when we get to your camp,” Dean said gruffly, his eyes scanning the forest ahead of them. If he ignored the fact that he was suspended in midair on a  _hand_ , it got easier to focus on  _anything_  else.  
  
Jacob looked down at his hands with surprise and gratitude competing for dominance in his expression. "Wow, thanks," he told them, even his subdued voice rumbling out of the chest so nearby. "That... that'd be the best, if we can figure out how..."  
  
He trailed off. Without any knowledge from any of the three, it was impossible to tell what had caused this in the first place. Jacob had been losing hope of ever finding out by himself. How could he have? Now, with their offer of help, he'd cooperate as much as he could if it meant getting back to his life again.  
  
Jacob's long legs covered a lot of ground very quickly, scaring up the occasional flock of birds as he went. Eventually, a cliff came into view up ahead, one that reached just over Jacob's shoulders and looked over the trees around it. Even from a distance, it was easy to see that its base was notably clear of trees.  
  
They reached the clearing, and the reason came to light. Since Jacob had been there the most, the ground was trampled flat and the nearest trees had been uprooted or broken to make room for him. A backpack, made of canvas and suitably enormous for Jacob, leaned against the rock wall under a slight overhang.  
  
Overall, Jacob had enough room to take a few strides across his clearing; it was a field to Sam and Dean, but barely more than the space for a closet for Jacob. A firepit fit for a small pool was dug right in the middle, with a pile of gray ashes in its center.  
  
"Here we are," Jacob announced. "Not a lot, but it's been home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacob's a little excited that there are people willing to listen to him.
> 
> **Next:** July 25th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	6. Misunderstandings Abound

Dean stiffened at the sight of Jacob’s temporary home, his eyes trained on the bonfire pit. “So long as the  _other_  white meat’s not on the menu,” he joked with a nervous laugh, doing his best to push away the memory of being trapped in a hand and lifting into the air. For all their skills, both brothers had been captured and could have become lunch instead of being brought back for help.  
  
Sam jabbed Dean with an elbow, giving him a scathing bitchface. “That’s not helping anyone,” he hissed. For himself, he couldn’t keep from glancing over at the worn canvas backpack. It could hold an entire house. Not to mention the uprooted trees and torn ground where the roots once were. Jacob had more power than any other monster they’d ever run into, and they were sitting right in his hands.  
  
“It’s not bad,” Sam said, pushing himself to his feet so he could survey the area. “But there’s not much protection from the elements out here.”  
  
Jacob didn't answer right away. He watched the pair in his hands with a gloom in his expression that he simply couldn't hide. Dean may have laughed his comment off, but Jacob was smart. He knew where the joke had really come from.  
  
He understood, but that didn't make the assumption hurt any less.  
  
Forcing out a chuckle, Jacob stepped into his clearing to slowly crouch down. "The cliff helps a little with the wind, but the rain still gets me. At least it just kinda feels like a drizzle most of the time, now." He lowered his hands to the ground to let them step off.  
  
Dean practically stumbled off, hitting the ground with his knees and just sitting there for a second to enjoy solid land that didn’t have a pulse, or come with the threat of closing in on him. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, trying to erase the swaying sensation that was all too close to being trapped in an airplane up in the sky.  
  
Sam was far more graceful as he stepped down. “Dude, still with the heights?” he asked, torn between being worried and being entertained. “We weren’t even on an airplane this time.”  
  
Dean’s eyes slitted open and a green glare was sent in Sam’s direction. “Close enough,” he grumbled. “Who asked you.”  
  
Sam twisted around, choosing to ignore Dean’s griping. It would wear off on its own in no time at all, once the novelty of their situation sank in. They were in a  _giant’s_ campsite. The ground was tramped down on all sides to flatten out the area. There was a firepit big enough for the Impala to park in. Without the sight of the broken trees on the sides, Sam would almost be able to envision Jacob as just a normal camper, minding his own business.  
  
Which brought Sam back to what needed to be done next. “Why don’t you tell us everything that happened,” he offered with an encouraging smile for Jacob. “That’s our best place to start.”  
  
"Okay," Jacob answered, uncertain. He glanced once more at Dean, concerned for the way he hunched over. The small man looked extra fragile there, and for a moment Jacob caught himself thinking in a mindset that he was normal-sized. That these two were really tiny and vulnerable.  
  
They weren't, of course. They were fully grown men, normal people. They could fit the world around them with much more ease than Jacob, and there was no guarantee that he'd be able to join them back on that scale again.  
  
He shifted his legs to cross them and sat down before the two brothers. He heard rattling in the nearby trees as his actions shook the ground, and he cast his gaze downward sheepishly before looking back at Sam.  
  
"It's Sam, right? How did you guys ... are there really that many rumors in town? I don't remember a lot but I never thought the news would draw in ... whatever you guys are for a living."  
  
Sam winced. They were so busy worrying about the giant they'd forgotten to introduce themselves, even after discovering it was Jacob and not just a reclusive giant come down from the mountains.  
  
Hopefully Jacob wouldn't mind. Dean was shifting himself in his place on the ground so he could see Jacob as they talked while Sam answered. “My name's Sam Winchester, and that's my brother Dean. We're  _hunters,_  but not the kind you'll find in the forest this time of year.”  
  
“We hunt the supernatural,” Dean interrupted. “Anything out there that the police or authorities won't acknowledge. We do the dirty work so they can go on livin’ their lives none the wiser. Which is why we're here.”  
  
Sam frowned. “You couldn't sugarcoat it?” he grumbled, rolling his eyes at Dean's blunt nature. He turned his face up to Jacob. “We  _save people_ ,” he said honestly. “We have sources that no other people would ever credit, and if there's a way to reverse this… whatever it is, we'll find it. I promise. But we're gonna need your help. There’s a park ranger that’s on extended leave right now that told a story about the giant that almost ate him to anyone that sits down at the local bar. Word  _is_  out there about you.”  
  
Jacob sighed tersely. "I didn't 'almost eat' him," he insisted. It brought a worried frown to his face that the skinny little ranger (it could only be one guy that he remembered) was telling everyone a story like that. At this rate, the town would gather torches and pitchforks themselves.  
  
"I don't eat people, I haven't eaten anyone, I  _swear,_ " he continued. Even though they stood in his shadow, Jacob looked at Sam and Dean like they had all the answers. He didn't know what he could do to prove  _this_ claim, so he had to hope they believed him. "Whenever I catch people in my traps I just let them out. The ranger guy ran away, I watched him go. He was more likely to bang into a tree than get any trouble from me."  
  
“We wouldn’t be here now if we didn’t believe you,” Sam pointed out. All the people who’d seen Jacob had come back alive, and so far there were no hikers or hunters reported missing. Aside from Jacob himself, of course, and now they knew why.  
  
“Problem is, rumors like that might draw other hunters in,” Dean stated gruffly, getting to the meat of the problem before them. “They might not listen if we try and explain what’s happenin.’ ”  
  
“Which is why you have to tell us  _everything_  you remember from that night,” Sam said, meeting Jacob steadily in the eyes and not balking at the fact that those eyes were as big as his head. “We can only help you if you let us.”  
  
Jacob nodded emphatically. He clasped his hands nervously, thinking about other guys like Sam and Dean showing up. Guys who would rush at him without a second thought and try to take him down, all in the name of killing some supernatural monster. His large heart pounded uneasily, remembering the gunshots from before.  
  
"I was just kinda exploring the forest close to the campgrounds," he began. "My buddies and I all pitched in to rent the spot for a few days, and we'd already set up camp and everything. We didn't even stay for one night before ... whatever this is," he gestured vaguely to himself, and his size.  
  
"So I was hiking around, checking it all out. Then, outta nowhere--" Jacob's explanation cut off in sharp surprise when a low, pining noise of hunger erupted from his stomach. He shut his mouth abruptly and his cheeks turned red, and he looked down at his stomach in shock. Of all the times for it to remind him he hadn't eaten since the day before, and was in fact searching for food when Sam and Dean showed up.  
  
Thinking of the two small hunters again, Jacob's cheeks warmed even more. His gaze hesitantly shifted to them, knowing they heard it, too. He already dreaded what he'd find on their faces.  
  
Dean drew himself back to his feet, the slight nausea from being carried over fifty feet up in the air suddenly the furthest thing from his mind. The rumbling growl sounded closer to an earthquake, reminding the brothers that as normal as Jacob was acting, they weren’t dealing with just a normal teenager.  
  
They were dealing with a giant, and a  _hungry_  one that had them in his camp, miles from anyone. The sound of his stomach growling alone could drown out their voices.  
  
“Jacob,” Sam said slowly, his eyebrows pinching in worry. “Is everything okay?” He took a wary step back, and Dean had a hand in his jacket, ready to pull a knife in case a hand lunged at them. The trust with Jacob was still new, and with someone so huge Dean wasn’t about to take any chances.  
  
Jacob glanced between the two brothers and a growing worry ignited in his eyes. Already he could see his meager progress with Sam and Dean crashing down. His stomach grumbled again and he finally remembered to take a breath, but it was more of a startled gasp.  
  
_They're ... they think I'll..._  Barely coherent thoughts made it through his concern. He had to fix the problem before they got scared and ran from him or shot at him again. He wouldn't get another chance.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, and his stomach whined yet again.  _Not the time for this,_  he thought vehemently at it, before scooting backwards. One of his massive hands planted in the dirt as Jacob pushed himself back to his feet hastily.  
  
"I'll be right back, okay?" he held up his hands placatingly, and then winced when even that didn't help. They were too skittish, and he was too big. He turned to hurry out of the clearing, determined to find something quickly before they decided he wasn't worth listening to.  
  
“No, Jake, wait--” Dean’s shout cut off as the giant clearly wasn’t paying attention to them and vanished into the trees. He switched over to strangled cursing.  
  
Dean whipped around to Sam. “We can’t let him out of sight,” he said hastily, a plan falling together in his mind. “No matter what, we need to know what he’s doing at all times. That means one of us should follow him. I’ll see if I can get him back here before he goes stumbling into any other hikers. Think you can take a look at his campsite? See what you can find out about this giant.”  
  
Sam nodded. “Yeah, but what if something happens? We don’t have reception--"  
  
Dean cut him off. “I’ll be fine, trust me. We just need to know everything we can. This might be your only chance to be alone here. Got it?”  
  
Without waiting for an answer, Dean turned to follow the crashing footsteps that were drawing away from them every second. He vanished into the trees, trying to follow Jacob’s trail.  
  


* * *

  
Sam frowned after Dean, hating the way they were splitting up around a partial unknown, but Dean was right. They needed to know what they could about Jacob.  
  
With that in mind, Sam let his bag drop to the ground in the center of the clearing. First, he’d survey Jacob’s belongings, resting by the edge of the cliff. Kept out of the way so Jacob had more space in such a relatively small clearing. Sam had to wonder how big the kid was compared to the brothers if he was normal sized. He certainly  _seemed_  like he’d be tall, by how long his legs were to the rest of his body, but there was no way to know for sure.  
  
The canvas bag offered many handholds, but Sam only made it up a few feet in the air before something caught his eyes next to it.  
  
_Is that… a saddle?_  
  
Confused, he jumped down next to the bag and walked over. The saddle of a pony, clearly branded with the logo of the State Park.  
  


* * *

  
Dean cursed. He could hear Jacob's crashing footsteps up ahead, but he’d lost any sense of direction in the thick forest. The day was growing dark, and that was best demonstrated down amongst the underbrush where Dean had to walk. Jacob might see the light of day with his head up in the clouds, but Dean had left his brother and the compass they’d brought behind, a mistake he was swiftly beginning to regret.  
  
He held up his phone, briefly hoping to get a stray signal on it. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. He’d lost a giant in the woods.  
  
Who does that?  
  
Jacob should be  _easy_  for an experienced tracker to find. Dean might not be a woodsman, but he could follow a trail with the best of them. He just had issues spotting other things, like hidden bear traps.  
  
The memory of their last case with a wendigo smarted. If it wasn’t for the smart ass hunter that lead the way, Dean might have lost a foot. The foolish man had gone on to ignore their warnings, believing that the brothers had no real experience with hunting, and had paid with his life.  
  
All of these thoughts crowded Dean’s mind and he was absently shoving his phone back in his pocket when it happened.  
  
Behind him, a massive spring responded to his presence. A steel door thicker than a wall slammed shut behind him, and Dean was surrounded by metal bars as thick as his arms.  
  
Trapped, with a hungry giant missing in the forest. No way to reach Sam by cell, and no way to get out of the cage.  
  
To be sure, Dean pulled on the thick bars that comprised the sides of the cage. They didn’t budge. The massive metal door of the cage could be used for warehouses, and no matter how he pushed, nothing happened. The damn thing must weigh a ton.  
  
Dean slumped down with a frustrated sigh.  
  
Seconds later, a sound came to him through the woods. The crashing sound of footsteps, like he’d been chasing only moments before. The leaves around him shook, and Dean knew that Jacob was coming.  
  
And he was caught in a trap.  
  
A trickle of sweat dripped down Dean’s neck. They only knew a little about the teenager. There was no way of knowing how Jacob would react to them after his dash from the cliff. Why had he run away? Was he afraid of what would happen if he was around two bite-sized people while he was so hungry?  
  
The footsteps were hurried, rushed. Dean hesitantly got out his machete, prepared to fight for his life if it came down to it. Sam was on his own by the cliff, investigating Jacob’s belongings and campsite. If there was a fight, and Dean lost, Sam would have no warning that Jacob was dangerous. No way of even knowing that Jacob and Dean had run into each other out in the forest. For all Sam would know, Dean was still combing the trees in search of the giant.  
  
Leaves rustled, and a huge hand came into view as a maple tree was pushed out of the way with a lingering  _creak_. Hungry brown eyes fell onto Dean’s small form, and deep shadows covered Jacob's face as another echoing growl came from his stomach.  
  
Dean took a step back from Jacob, and felt his back press up against the thick metal wires of the cage. He was cornered. Holding the large knife defensively in front of his chest, he was prepared to go down fighting.  
  
It was hard to forget that every single bit of lore they'd found on giants specifically called out the fact that they ate people. Jacob might be reasonable enough, but this hex or curse or whatever it was might change him when he was hungry, a lot like what a werewolf went through during the full moon. Without fresh hearts, werewolves would die, so their instincts compelled them to hunt humans, even people that they knew and respected in their normal life. Jacob had only met them that day, and most of their time had been spent tracking him down.  
  
If he was operating by instinct, he might see them as a threat. Dean had emptied his clip into Jacob's palm in an attempt to escape a grab just hours before.  
  
Dean hadn't missed the hunger that shone in Jacob's eyes when he pushed aside that tree.  
  
"Jacob," Dean greeted, a strain in his voice. "We're all friends here, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacob freaks, Dean follows, and an accident finds them
> 
>  **Next:** July 29th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	7. Mystery of the Missing Pony

Jacob's thoughts roiled about, distracted and fragmented. He knew he needed to go and find some food to shut his pining stomach up. Yet, he wasn't sure what he  _should_  do. He had wandered down the mountain earlier to look, and that had ended in him being chased by two crazy hunters with guns.  
  
Now, those two crazy hunters probably thought he wanted to eat them, no matter what he said.  
  
Right from the start, they'd had their assumptions about him. Same as everyone else. He was a monster. The only difference here was that they already believed in monsters beforehand, making it easier for them to accept the vicious rumors.  
  
Jacob was presumed dead, eaten by the giant beast that everyone thought he had become. He supposed, in a way, they were half right. He'd become a monster and the old him was gone. Now he focused on survival and defending himself when before he worried about college and sneaking out.  
  
It felt like such a hopeless endeavor, trying to get Sam and Dean to stay. To listen and help him. He suspected he wouldn't find them when he returned, but he needed to get himself something to eat anyway. If they stayed, it'd be as much for their comfort as his own.  
  
His usual source of food was a longer walk away. Jacob decided there was nothing for it, even though he'd cut into the supply quite a bit in the last few days. His traps weren't catching much other than people, which didn't do him any good whatsoever.  
  
With a sigh, Jacob angled back in the direction of the little ranch he'd found. It was still daylight, but he'd managed it before. Cows couldn't run fast enough to escape his reach, and a few of them accounted for a decent enough meal. Surviving for another day. Everything had come down to surviving lately.  
  
Surviving and, hopefully, getting back to normal someday. He had a rekindled hope that Sam and Dean might be able to help him. He couldn't risk scaring them off.  
  
Then, the sound of metal clanging together echoed to his ears, and Jacob halted. His heart fluttered and he recounted his steps to recall where he had set the closest trap. If he caught something in that to eat, he wouldn't have to go as far and he could get back to camp. His stomach growled again in hopeful agreement as he changed his course to see what he had caught.  
  
Even just a deer would be better than nothing. Something to hold him over until he could explain better without those fearful looks. He just needed to fix his latest mistake and maybe he'd get somewhere with the two of them.  
  
When the trap was just ahead, Jacob stooped down and eagerly pushed the branches of a young maple tree aside to see what he'd caught.  
  
_Dean._  
  
Oh, no.  
  
Jacob's eyes were wide in the setting sunlight and he clenched his jaw. He stared through the bars at one of the only people to bother trying to listen to him, and saw all of his chances crumbling before his eyes. His hungry stomach growled again and he hated himself a little more, even as a tiny voice echoed through the air.  
  
"Jacob. We're all friends here, right?"  
  
The fear in that quiet little voice was like a bolt in Jacob's heart. He'd definitely put that fear there, every ounce of it. He shamefully recalled his hurried footsteps rushing back to the trap. How quickly he'd bent aside a tree just to check his quarry.  
  
He didn't know Dean had followed him. He had thought he really might have caught something he could eat in that trap. Now, regardless of his principles, Dean thought he'd eat him anyway.  
  
Jacob couldn't help but feel like he'd ruined everything. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten his hopes so high after all.  
  
He let the tree go and sidled around so he could sit down heavily in front of the trap. He avoided looking at Dean, but he did answer his question while he faced the ground. "I think so," he said, not much hope in his voice. This was a well-rehearsed scene for him by now. The moment the trap opened, Dean would run away and Jacob would go right back to being on his own.  
  
It was what life during the last few weeks had taught him to expect.  
  
"Better get you out of there," he said hollowly. He reached out and grasped the top handle of the trap. It lifted easily in his grip, and Jacob carefully turned the whole thing so it would face away from him. No use making Dean feel more cornered than he already was.   
  
From there, it was easy to unlatch the door and let it fall open. Jacob heaved a sigh and sat back, now keeping an eye on Dean to make sure he escaped the cage without issue. He would hate to see the little guy get hurt because he was in a rush to escape.  
  
Dean didn’t bolt the way Jacob expected. Instead, he edged his way to the front of the cage, looking out with a wary eye to be sure of where Jacob’s hands were at all times. The sight of open air before him instead of the thick steel bars of the cage went a long way in relaxing some of the tension that had built up inside.  
  
Once he was out, Dean turned towards the remorseful giant and lowered his machete down. “What were you thinking, bolting like that?” Dean demanded, trying to work the strain of fear out of his voice and replacing it with righteous indignation. “We can’t have you out of sight, Jacob. If you really want our help, you have to accept that. Me or Sam will be with you at all times from now on. Whatever caused this, the fact is that you  _are_  the big hungry giant in the woods, and we can’t take the risk of you wandering off and getting into trouble.” He gestured pointedly with his machete to punctuate his sentences.  
  
Jacob stared at Dean in confusion and surprise. He blinked slowly as, of all things, a  _lecture_  sank in. Dean hadn't stumbled out fearfully, he hadn't bolted to get his brother and try to regroup against the terrifying giant. He had calmly stepped out and started scolding someone twenty times his size.  
  
Remaining subdued and gloomy, Jacob gathered his thoughts to answer. "I was just gonna go and get something to eat. I didn't ... I didn't want you to keep looking at me like that." The way he spoke, there was little doubt about the meaning of 'like that.' Like he was just a mindless monster, waiting to spring his deadly attack on them.  
  
He was so tired of scaring people.  
  
He reached out to pick up the trap once Dean was clear of it, and set it on his lap. With easy strength, Jacob began to take the whole contraption apart. Catching Dean was the last straw. Eventually he'd have to find the rest and take them apart, too. "I've caught more people than animals in these fucking things," he explained. "And, no, none of  _them_  ended up on the menu, either."  
  
Dean sighed as he watched Jacob work for a few moments, his eyes drawn to the massive metal contraption that was wielded like it was a toy in huge hands. The distracting sound of the teenager’s cavernous stomach rumbling didn’t seem as dangerous now that Dean saw the contrition on his face.  
  
“Look, Jacob,” Dean said, gathering himself up. “I’m not sayin’ it’s right, but you have to remember you’re a lot to take in. We’ve dealt with monsters that are only monsters at certain times… and sometimes they don’t even  _know_  they’re monsters.”  
  
There was a deep frown etched on his face, once more hating himself for the case against Madison. “Just a few weeks ago we found a werewolf. She was just minding her own business and got bit by a guy, giving her the same curse. She didn’t even  _know_  she was sneaking out to snack on hearts until Sam stayed with her one night and he woke up when she transformed.  
  
“It’s not right, and it sure as hell ain't easy, but it’s our job. We don’t get paid to take chances with people’s lives.” Dean let out a barking laugh, tucking away his machete. “Hell, we don’t even get  _paid_  to do any of this shit. If the police knew who we really were, we’d end up in jail.”  
  
Walking forward, Dean didn’t hesitate to haul himself up into Jacob's knee so he was closer to the same level. The hands, so enormous and close by, halted their movements. Even the gale-like breaths that moved in and out of Jacob’s chest paused. The thick fabric of the jeans offered plenty of handholds, and Dean stared up to catch Jacob’s subdued gaze with his own intense look. Once he was up there, Dean stuck his hands casually in his pockets, the closest he’d come to relaxing his guard around the giant... around Jacob.  
  
“We need to get back to your camp, and Sam. You need to tell us everything, and then we can see about finding you something to eat.” He paused, realizing how  _final_ Jacob’s actions with the trap looked. “Are you just givin’ up on those traps now?”  
  
Jacob only then remembered his task and took his eyes off Dean. His breathing returned to normal and he tried to pretend it wasn't completely strange to have someone the size of a finger standing on his knee while he dismantled the trap. If the trees around weren't all dwarfed by his bulk, Jacob would think he'd just met a forest fairy.  
  
A forest fairy in a leather jacket and jeans, wrapped up with a bad attitude to match.  
  
He shrugged once the last spring was undone and the trap lay in flat pieces on his lap. He rested his hands on the metal, lacking anything else to do with them. With Dean so close, he didn't want to risk throwing the little guy off his perch, especially after he bothered to climb up there in the first place.  
  
"I should," he replied. "Maybe ... maybe tomorrow I'll go get the rest. They just cause more trouble than they help." He glanced aside to the maple tree he'd bent back to find Dean. The branches on one side were all bent or broken, and missing too many leaves. Every move from Jacob seemed to cause some kind of damage, and he was grateful he'd yet to actually hurt someone. Getting rid of the traps would help.  
  
"I know that I got way bigger than anyone wants to deal with," he began, thinking about Dean's speech. 'A lot to take in' put it so mildly. He was a  _giant._  "And I get that you have to watch out and all. I promise that if I do something that freaks you guys out, it's not on purpose. I just want to get back to normal and go home, if I can. I'm sorry for just walking off."  
  
He turned his attention completely to Dean then, marveling briefly at the sight. A little tiny guy, so vulnerable around Jacob, and he was standing right on his knee. Jacob desperately hoped he wouldn't let that trust down.  
  
"I guess I owe Sam an apology too," he admitted.   
  
Dean nodded sharply and turned in place to hop down from Jacob’s knee. When he saw he was a good distance off the ground, he changed tactics and just slid down the blue denim slope formed by Jacob’s leg. “He’s probably wondering what we’re up to,” he quipped lightly, starting to head in the direction he assumed he’d come from. Down within the trees, it was hard to spot the cliff that comprised Jacob’s temporary home, and being in that trap had thrown off what little sense of direction he had in the forest.  
  
In the thick underbrush, even Dean’s footsteps made a good amount of noise, cushioned from the ground by dried and dead leaves that lay scattered and forgotten. Still he managed a jaunty swagger up until the point he realized he was heading in the wrong direction. “I hate camping,” he grumbled, heading in the opposite direction past Jacob. Bobby Singer had tried to get the boys used to camping and hunting live game out in the forest when they were kids, but found that they only retained the lessons on tracking.  
  
Jacob had to do his best to hide the amused glint in his eyes and keep it from showing in a smile. He remained still for a few more seconds and watched Dean march along in a direction that was only slightly more correct. If he didn't have Jacob around to help, he would probably skip right past the clearing by the cliff.  
  
For all his determination, Dean could be entertaining. Jacob liked these moments much better than Dean firing a gun at his hand or brandishing a machete.  
  
"Here," he said, before reaching out to scoop Dean right off the forest floor. The noise from the little guy’s footsteps abruptly halted as Jacob lifted him up and cupped his hand close to his chest. "You'll draw every curious predator right to you if you wander around too much." He stood then, the pieces of the trap in one hand and Dean on the other. At his full height, his cliff was in easy view for both of them.  
  
Dean scowled from his place in Jacob’s hand, pushing himself back up from his initial tumble to the center of Jacob’s palm. “Can’t you give some warning the next time you feel like grabbing me off the ground?” he griped. He had to push the quarter back into his duffel to keep it from falling out.  
  
The good part about traveling by giant had to be the fact that they wouldn’t get lost, and it took much less time. Dean eyed the ground under them that just one step could cover, now that he was growing adjusted to the vertiginous sensation of flying through the air.  
  
Animals like bears or coyotes, maybe even  _regular_  wolves hadn’t factored into Dean’s planning for their trip in the park. “Are there a lot of coyotes around here?” he asked. On a normal hunt, such a mundane danger wouldn’t apply. This hunt was far from normal.  
  
Jacob glanced down and made sure Dean was secure on his hand. While he pondered his answer and remembered at the last second not to shrug, he noted the little guy's request. He hadn't really thought about how startling his movements could be. To him, he was simply standing up. He recalled their terror when he first wrapped his fists around them and resolved to be better about that. It was easy to forget that they saw everything very differently from him now.  
  
"I've seen a few coyotes wandering around, but I think I scared most of 'em away," he replied. "They don't want to fight me, I guess." One less thing to worry about.  
  
In little time, they reached the clearing, but Jacob paused just before exiting the treeline. Sam wasn't where he'd last been. "Um. Sam?" he called, knowing his approach was long announced by his footsteps.  _Did he follow Dean?_  The sobering thought drew Jacob's gaze down to his boots.  
  
Sam, on the other hand, though he respected Jacob’s size,  _especially_  after being trapped in those hands, wasn’t worried a bit. He was out of the center of the clearing, relaxing against the gigantic backpack with his own bag and the mysterious Sylvan Lake saddle lying next to him.  
  
As Jacob paused to scan the ground for him, Sam jumped to his feet to wave at the others, impressed to see that Jacob had gotten Dean in his hand a  _second_  time. As unbelievable as a giant in the forest was, Sam had a harder time believing that Dean would go willingly onto a hand to be carried through the air.  
  
Sam snatched up the saddle in one hand and had it dangling by his side as he strolled into the center of the clearing. “I think you might have some explaining for us,” he called up to the giant.  
  
Jacob waited until Sam was done moving before he stepped forward. He had never realized how weird it felt to walk around with such small people down on the ground. If he wasn't looking right at Sam, it was possible he'd miss him entirely. He didn't like that at all.  
  
He crouched down to let Dean back onto solid ground, and then finally realized what Sam had in his hand. Jacob's expression turned sheepish yet again and he sat down with a quake of the earth, setting the dismantled trap next to himself and staring down at the pair.  
  
"I wasn't sure what else to do with that, so I just kept it," he said, almost ready for more scolding of some kind from them. It was park property, after all.  
  
Dean walked casually over to his younger brother, squinting slightly as he realized as well what it was for. “Is that for a pony?” he asked.  
  
Sam dropped it on the ground between them. “Yeah, for one of the ponies you can ride in the park. There’s trails all through the area.” He looked up at Jacob. “One of the people you caught in your trap… she had a pony.” He remembered that part coming up a few times during their research and discussions.  
  
There was no mistaking the disapproval in his voice. “You kept the pony, didn’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's great to see everyone's enjoying the story! ^^ Things are only going to get more interesting from here.
> 
>  **Next:** August 1st, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	8. Rustle Up Some Dinner

To say Jacob was uncomfortable with the direction the conversation took would be an understatement. He stared sullenly at the stupid saddle and felt his cheeks warming again. It was like every time he made a step forward, he stumbled several steps back. Earning their trust and keeping it would be an uphill battle for him.  
  
At least he had some advice from Dean on how to do it. Even if his shoulders sank with shame, he had to tell them the truth. "Yeah, but I don't exactly have it anymore," he began. He twined his fingers together to stare at his hands. His stomach growled again, quieter than before but angry that its needs had yet to be met.  
  
It was the perfect transition. "I let the rider go but I caught the pony before it could run away. Y-you guys have to understand, it's really hard to find ... enough to  _eat._ I'd never eat a person but I hadn't had anything else that day so the horse seemed like a safe bet..."  
  
“So  _that’s_  what happened to the pony,” Dean said, shaking his head. For the pony, at least, the worst case scenario of having a giant around had come true. “Makes sense.”  
  
“Okay,” Sam said, working things out in his mind. “It’s sad, but it’s better than the alternative.” A hungry giant in the forest was unsettling, but a  _starving_  giant could be devastating. People could be driven to extremes when things got desperate, and they didn’t need Jacob getting to that point. The town had already given up on the pony, and it wasn’t like coyotes and bears didn’t try their best if they came across any unsuspecting animals. For Jacob, a meal like that might mean the difference between life and death, or worse: turning to the urge to eat people that all the giant legends told of.  
  
“But that raises a good question.” Sam finally met Jacob in the eyes, hearing another rumble from the giant stomach nearby. A stomach that was  _demanding_  food, and they were bite sized, leaving Sam glad that Jacob was so level headed in his situation. “You’ve been missing for weeks. How have you managed to eat enough?”  
  
Jacob sighed, glad they at least weren't too upset about the pony. He couldn't afford to be too picky, when his food options were so limited. He had to take what he could get, even if it meant stealing a horse from its rider.  
  
"Well, my traps have managed to catch things other than people a couple times. I caught a whole moose once," he explained. He nudged at the pieces of the trap he'd brought back. "They've been more trouble than they're worth. I've been making a lot of stops at a little ranch." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction he'd hastily taken off to earlier. "I, uh. I steal cows. I know I shouldn't, but they're the easiest food I could find."  
  
Dean felt a smirk form at that, sending Sam a shit-eating grin. “A moose, you say?” Then, the rest of what Jacob had admitted sank into his head. “Wait, is that why the diner in town charged us so much for a freakin’  _burger?_ ”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. “Ten dollars for a burger is better than a hungry giant on the prowl,” he chided his older brother. “They weren’t kidding when they said they only used local beef.”  
  
“At least they were  _good_  burgers,” Dean said, only slightly mollified. “Seriously, I can’t believe how much they charged us.”  
  
Sam leaned back on his heels. “We might be able to help you get some cows,” he offered to Jacob.  
  
“Either way, I think tomorrow I’m making a supply run to town,” Dean decided. “We could all use some extra supplies while we’re stuck in this place, and I can let Bobby know what’s happening and see if he’s got any ideas for countering a spell or hex that turns someone  _giant._ ”  
  
Jacob's expression brightened cautiously. He knew better than to get his hopes too high, but the thought of having yet another person looking to find a way to cure him ... he felt hopeful again. His optimism had struggled to stay afloat. Now, they might actually get somewhere.  
  
"That's a good idea. I can help with some of the camping stuff but you guys might want some extra supplies. A way to keep your stuff dry if it rains, first of all..." he trailed off and realized it felt good to talk about something he actually knew. Camping was a favorite hobby of Jacob's. Before Dean left, he'd have to give him a list.  
  
His stomach gave them all a pointed reminder of the task at hand. Jacob blushed pink. "But, I guess, if you wanted to come to the ranch with me ... no time like the present, right?"  
  
“If you go to the ranch, we go to the ranch,” Dean said, reminding everyone of the simple insistence that they be with Jacob at all times. “Who knows. Maybe we can rustle up some cattle without anyone noticing.”  
  
“Yeah, because we have  _so_  much experience with cows,” Sam said dryly. Dean gave him a hurt look. “When’s the last time you tried to get your burger directly from the source?”  
  
“It can’t be  _that_  hard, can it? We hunt  _monsters._  What’s a few cows?”  
  
“That’s not what Bobby would say.” With that last aside, Sam stepped towards Jacob. “How far off is the ranch?” he asked, eyeing up the difference between Jacob’s size and theirs. A short walk for the teen might take the brothers the better part of the day, and the sun was sinking below the distant horizon.  
  
Jacob smiled faintly, a mix of sheepish and relieved. Relief that he'd managed to smooth over his latest snag, and sheepishness for his coming answer. "It'd probably be dark or close to it by the time I got there," he admitted. "It's easier when it's a little later, though, then the ranchers are all back in the house or home for the night."  
  
He lifted a hand, ready to scoop them up again in preparation for the hike. Then, Dean's insistence from before barked in his memory and he paused. On the spur of the moment he hesitantly lowered his hand instead to make his fingers a ramp up to his palm.  
  
"You guys shouldn't be on the ground in the woods while I'm walking," he explained.    
  
Dean eyed the massive fingers with a wary look on his face. They were as long as either brother’s entire body, making it hard to just step on without reservations. But then he remembered in the forest earlier, and how quick he’d stood on Jacob’s knee to prove a point. Jacob had proven he wasn’t going to hurt them. If he was, why bother befriending them and bringing them all the way back to his temporary home?  
  
That didn’t make stepping into the huge hand any easier. The memory of how fast those fingers could close around them was bright in Dean’s mind, tainting the air between them.  
  
Sam stepped up quicker than Dean. His earlier experience helping Jacob with his injured palms made trust easier. “How’s your hands feel?” he asked, glancing down at the surface under his boots. Dean followed with more hesitation, but swiftly joined his younger brother in the center.  
  
Jacob shook his head as if to brush off any concerns. "Hardly feel a thing now that the bullets are out," he said gratefully. Now, he only got the occasional twinge of a sting if one of their tiny little boots stepped on an injury.  The pinpricks were so small that having the contaminants out meant they could heal quickly.  
  
Jacob had to marvel briefly that he was recovering from several bullet wounds with hardly any pain. Then, he focused again on the tiny weights on his hand. They couldn't afford for him to be inattentive.  
  
He got his feet under him and rose once more with them along for the ride. Jacob cupped them close to his chest again, and his other hand quickly joined the first to give them more space. Then, the group was off yet again. "Getting the cows should be easy, at least. They're pretty dopey."  
  
With how fast Jacob moved, Sam and Dean found themselves standing back away from any edges of his hand, practically right up against his chest. It was sobering to watch the ground fly by under the giant’s feet and know that if they needed to run from him, there was no real way to escape. Boots bigger than the Impala took strides that were at least three car lengths in size in mere seconds, crashing through the trees and shaking the ground.  
  
If there were any hikers or hunters in the area when Jacob set up his home, they must have found other parts of the forest long ago to avoid the ‘monster’ in the woods.  
  
“We just have to make sure no one sees you,” Sam commented dubiously, glancing down at how distant the ground was. If there were no trees around, Jacob would be visible for  _miles._  
  
Dean waved that off. “We can get the cows and drag them over to Jake,” he dismissed.  
  
Sam stared at him. “Do you have any idea how heavy cows are?”  
  
Jacob grinned above them. He had to refrain from mentioning that the cows wouldn't be that heavy for  _him._  He could just imagine the grief he'd get for that. Instead, he glanced down to check on the small pair and noted how far they stood from the edge of his hands.  
  
He curled his fingers a little more to protect them from the fall and noted, "Well, you can probably get them to walk where you want to. They're used to being herded around, how hard could it be, right?"  
  
When he'd first found the ranch, Jacob hadn't managed to catch any of the cattle. They ran from his hands if he moved too quickly, but he'd learned to slow down enough, and from there picking them up was easy. "Just help me get them closer and I'll handle the rest."  
  
“We can manage that,” Dean proclaimed, still confident in his earlier assurance. “It’s just some cows. What’s the worst that can happen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a good plan
> 
> **Next:** August 5th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	9. Cattle Raid

Jacob's long strides slowed when he knew the cattle ranch was only a mile or two away. A mile had become an easy distance for him to cover since his growth, and he had to be careful as he approached in case any ranch hands were still around for the day. He didn't need any  _more_ rumors to start floating around about the vicious giant prowling the mountains.  
  
He ended up stooping to walk the last few strides to get out of sight, hands cupped protectively around Sam and Dean as he moved. Even from this lower height, a fall would be devastating to them.  
  
"It's just ahead," he told them in a hush. They were close to the source of his thunderous voice; Jacob hardly needed to worry that he spoke too quietly for them to hear. "Did you want me to stop back here in the trees? Or should I get closer to the fence?"  
  
Sam and Dean peered over the edge of Jacob’s curled fingertips. Sam rued how strange their lives had become in the course of a single day. They’d gone from hunting a ‘terrifying, man-eating giant’ to helping a teenager who’d found himself twenty times larger than he should be and shunned by the general populace because of his size.  
  
“You are staying right here in the trees,” Dean stated sternly, sounding like he was scolding a kid trying to skip out on class. He didn’t plan on budging an inch on that; as far as he was concerned, the less possibility they had of Jacob being spotted by  _anyone_ , the better. “There’s already enough fodder for the rumor mill in town, we don’t need anyone gossiping about the giant who’s stealing cows.”  
  
“Especially if this is your only source of food,” Sam said in a quieter voice. “If we get caught, we can talk our way out of it. If you get caught, there’s no explaining to some people.”  
  
Jacob glanced down to them and found he could hardly see them in his own shadow. He had worried about the same things a few times, but before he had someone helping him, there was little choice. It was creep up and steal a few cows, or starve.  
  
He wasn't the man-eating monster that everyone thought he was, but he still had to eat  _something._  
  
"Okay," he replied. He wondered if the brothers noticed how fast his heart had begun to beat. Every outing to find food left him apprehensive that something might go wrong, and simultaneously hopeful that he'd stop his pining stomach. It felt like such a basic set of feelings that he'd been reduced to; like he really had become a beast, in a way.   
  
Sam and Dean, even though they continued to be nervous around him, helped Jacob focus on the fact that he was still a human. Something had happened to him and they would help him fix it.  
  
He lowered his hands to the ground for them. "Should be just the farmer around now, he'll be in his house."  
  
Dean waved over his shoulder as they stepped off. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got it all under control.”  
  
The brothers left their bags behind on Jacob’s palm, assuming the bags would only get in the way of the ‘cow wrangling’ they were about to attempt. That didn’t leave them unarmed by far, considering the amount of weapons they were trained to keep on themselves at all times. Aside from the machetes and handguns, which both brothers had squirreled away, there were a variety of knives, including some attached to their wrists and one in Dean’s boot.  
  
There was never any telling when trouble would find them, and they’d learned over and over again to guard against what they could.  
  
Other items hidden away included those that were only useful against certain monsters. A few silver bullets in a pocket of Dean’s was balanced out by a bag of salt in Sam’s. The empty flask of whiskey Dean grumped about was countered by his flask of holy water. None of which would help against cows, unless they planned on salting the meat before Jacob ate it.  
  
“So, you have a plan?” Sam quipped and Dean shot him a glare as they hopped the fence.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob watched them go with wide eyes, practically holding his breath. A small part of him worried that they might not come back. That they would get caught and sent to jail, or that they'd simply run away to leave him behind. He had to tell himself that they wouldn't have left their bags if they planned to do that.  
  
Once they were far enough ahead, he scooted forward just a bit and sat himself down. He had a good view of the fence they hopped over, and the field beyond it too. He'd keep watch for their return.   
  
In the meantime, he looked curiously down at their bags. They were so tiny, and he couldn't even see the zippers on them. Jacob smirked at the sight of the claimed quarter sticking out of Dean's bag. Then, he closed his hand carefully around the bags, feeling their tiny shapes shift on his palm. They were tucked away in his hoodie pocket for safekeeping while he waited.  
  


* * *

  
“C’mon Bessie, it’s just you and me.”  
  
“Dean,” Sam said sharply from the side where he was both watching and trying not to smirk. “That’s a  _steer._ ”  
  
Dean sent him an aggrieved glare, his hands out to the sides and his feet planted in the ground. “Yeah, so?”  
  
“ _So,_  that means it’s a male. Can’t you tell?”  
  
“Sam, I don’t spend my time lookin’ up cows’ skirts!”  
  
The steer bleated in annoyance at Dean’s attempt to block his path, and sedately wandered between the two hunters without pausing. It rejoined the rest of the herd, mixing into the other cattle until it blended like a stick in a bonfire, effectively thwarting their plans to feed it to the giant waiting in the shadow of the trees.  
  
Dean groaned and straightened, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Well, I don’t see  _you_  with a better plan.”  
  
Sam sent him a flat look and took off towards the next steer that was wandering on the outskirts of the safety of the herd. “I think you’ve been watching a few too many old Westerns,” he shot right back.  
  
Slapping the rump of the steer, Sam called out “Ha!” in another attempt to get it moving.  
  
“Right,  _I’m_  the only one watching too many movies,” Dean scoffed, but he imitated Sam’s move on another cow. It definitely served to get their attention, and Dean started to wonder if they wouldn’t have better luck if they used some weapons. Or maybe he could go find some of their food and lure one to the edge of the fence…  
  
He was so caught up with the effort of herding the placid steer that he didn’t notice that one of the others in the herd, a young bull with muscle built up far outstripping the others around him, was eyeing Dean up with glittering eyes. With a snort, it stamped the ground.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob could hear the disgruntled sounds from the field up ahead, but couldn't see around the trees. If he listened carefully, he even heard bare snippets of two human voices as Sam and Dean argued about something or other. He definitely wasn't used to just sitting back and waiting for cattle to be led closer to him. Usually, he leaned clear over the fence to scoop them up.  
  
Curiosity nagged at him, and he took the chance to edge forward. He winced as fallen branches crunched under his boots, but his sheer weight was enough to muffle most of the sound. As strange as it felt to know that entire branches, and not twigs, were snapping.  
  
His stomach growled impatiently as soon as he was close enough to the forest's edge to see the herd wandering together out there. Among them stood the two Winchester brothers that had somehow agreed to help him, when most everyone else ran the other direction screaming.  
  
His brow furrowed. One of the herd was making a bit more noise than the others. Jacob had to scan the crowd of cattle to find it, and winced when he found the bull, clearly angled towards the brothers. He wasn't sure if he should warn them or not; if he did, he could give himself away. He waited a few extra seconds, glancing to the distant farmhouse before watching over Sam and Dean's progress herding the cows.  
  


* * *

  
While Jacob was watching the bull from a distance, Dean was distracted by the cows they’d  _finally_  managed to get walking in the right direction. He had no idea what Jacob was expecting, but it was obvious that a single cow wouldn’t be enough for the teenager. The steer that bleated placidly back at Dean when he slapped his rump again wouldn’t be the size of Jacob’s hand, and not all of the cow would be edible.  
  
That was when Dean heard Sam’s startled exclamation. “Dean,  _left!_ ”  
  
No matter how much the brothers might argue and bicker, they knew better than to ever mess around when it came down to the job, and Dean lunged to the left without thinking twice, just in time to avoid being mowed down by an angry bull, who’d figured out that the intruder's scent didn’t match the scent of the humans that normally tended to the herd. Dean was the lucky closest target.  
  
After missing its mark, the bull angrily snorted again, a gust of wind out of its nostrils to rustle the grass by its hooves. It wheeled about, this time aiming for Sam, who was more distant from the cattle being separated from the crowd.  
  
“Sam, look out!”  
  


* * *

  
Jacob couldn't sit idly by any longer. The bull would never be a problem for him, being barely a handful, but it could seriously injure Sam or Dean. It was fast and powerful, a living battering ram of muscle and anger at the disturbance in its herd.  
  
Luckily, Jacob, though far more docile, was a lot bigger. He didn't even need to stand up fully to exit the trees and step over the fence.  
  
When he was on his own, he avoided stepping into the ranch lands themselves if he could. He was out in the open and visible from that farmhouse, but nothing had stirred since he started watching, and he needed to help keep his only friends in the world right now from harm. Even if it meant directly going against what they'd told him to do.  
  
 _They'll thank me later. Maybe._  
  
He reached the now far more concerned herd of cows and the bull defending them from the hunters in just a few steps. Stooping down, he scooped each brother onto a hand and off the ground. The bull, agitated but frightened by his bulk, hesitated to charge at his boot, and Jacob largely ignored the angry mooing.  
  
He looked over Sam and Dean in his hands hastily, before glancing up at the farmhouse again. There was no time. "Sorry, guys..." His hands were shoved carefully into his hoodie pocket to let the pair slide off his palms. They'd be safe in there for a short trip, and he needed his hands free.  
  
Three cows were gathered up in his hands, squirming and squealing with fear, and Jacob turned to duck back into the trees and aim for his camp, out of sight once more.  
  


* * *

  
Sam tried to dive to the side when the bull came charging at him, but the animal pulled up at the last second, its eyes wide as it stared up at the air.  
  
That was all Sam had time to notice before something huge rushed at him and swept him off the ground. Seconds later, he was yanked into the air, safely on a hand big enough to crush cars.  
  
Dean was on a hand a few feet away, and trying to right himself from the fast actions. “What the hell do you think you’re…” He was cut off when the hands moved again, suddenly shoving into a much darker area, where the world changed to green.  
  
Tumbling down, Dean found himself landing on his duffel bag. The quarter had fallen out, sitting a foot away. Sam’s bag was there as well, and all of their stuff together only weighed enough to create a slight divot in the thick green fabric.  
  
That was enough for Dean to realize exactly  _where_  he was. Jacob’s hoodie pocket. He was in a friggin’  _pocket,_  grabbed by a  _giant_  in the middle of rustling up  _cows_  for said giant to eat.  
  
And then Sam fell on Dean’s head as Jacob dropped him in the pocket as well.  
  
Both brothers flailed for a second, not expecting to find themselves pretty much sitting on top of each other. They each scrambled to a side, breathing heavily as the short adrenaline rush from the bull attack and being swept off the ground began to wear down. Cows could be heard bleating close by outside, and the crashing sounds of powerful footsteps started up again as Jacob took off with them in tow.  
  
“Whoa,” Sam said, his eyes wide as he pushed against the fabric to one side. “Are we…?”  
  
Dean glanced behind himself, spotting one of the entrances to the pocket. It was large enough to be a cavern of its own, and he knew how small it would look compared to Jacob. Sam and Dean, two dangerous hunters who were trained to kill monsters without hesitating, were simply a fold in the fabric tucked against Jacob’s stomach.  
  
Which was still making its hunger known, as a growl echoed throughout the pocket. Even the sides of the pocket shook a little from this close to the source, and Dean was glad to know that they wouldn’t have to worry about being introduced to the stomach from any closer than this. So far, Jacob had proven himself able to resist any impulses and treated people as people… Even when they didn’t do him the same courtesy.  
  
“Hope he got enough to eat after all that,” Dean grumbled. There was another entrance to the pocket over past Sam, but Dean grabbed his duffel and quarter and picked his way carefully over to the side he’d been dropped in. His knuckles almost turned white when he got a good look at the drop, and he held to the fabric with a death-grip.  
  
Trying to look up, Dean raised his voice in the hopes that the giant might hear it despite the distance between them and the crashing sound of those huge boots hitting the ground with seismic steps. “Did anyone spot you after all that?!”  
  
Dean's voice was nearly snatched away by the wind. Jacob almost thought he imagined it, but he looked down as he walked and his eyes widened at the sight of a tiny head poking out of his pocket. His next step faltered in his surprise, and the cows mooed scoldingly at him. With a huge hand under their bellies, they could only kick and squirm.  
  
Dean or Sam, by contrast, could possibly fall right out of his pocket. "Hey, be careful," he said, continuing on his trek. Now, he glanced down several times per step to make sure he wouldn't jostle Dean down to the forest floor.  
  
"I didn't see anyone running around near the farmhouse," he explained, answering the question he hadn't even heard. His voice was sheepish, but still rumbled just behind them courtesy of their position near his core. "Just saw the bull running after you guys. Guess he had something to prove."  
  
He kept right on walking to put as much distance between himself and the ranch as he could. If someone  _had_  heard all that angry mooing, they'd come and investigate. Jacob was certain that by now, they knew some cows were missing.  
  
Jacob glanced down at the three cows he'd managed to catch. They were still bleating and crying out in fear every few seconds, but they'd given in on trying to kick free. Either they were resigned to being carried away, or they had already tired out. Jacob could feel their heartbeats against his palms.  
  
This whole ordeal was trying its best to make a vegetarian out of him.  
  
"You didn't get hurt, right?" he asked, once he could slow down his walk and adopt a more relaxed gait. "I didn't wait too long to check when I first ...  _grabbed_  you."  
  
Dean glanced behind himself towards Sam, who was now on the same side of the pocket, curious about what was going on outside. He couldn’t possibly miss Jacob’s responses to Dean, as the huge voice echoed around them.  
  
“We’re both fine!” Dean called up once he knew for certain. With the pandemonium of their haphazard rescue, he was more concerned about Sam landing on his  _head_ than any injuries. “You’re not half bad at this, Godzilla. But this is still friggin’ weird, being stuffed in a pocket!”  
  
After his shout died away, Dean pushed himself back away from the edge, in a hurry to get away from a view of the drop that telescoped before them. The pocket was closer to a green fabric hammock.  
  
Sam took his place at the edge, less wary of the height and more interested in the view. “Do you think you got enough?” he shouted up, spotting the cows held in the massive hands. One trip to the ranch that day was more than enough.  
  
Jacob nodded absently. With the sun almost finished setting and the shadows clinging to the trees around him, he paid close attention to his route back to his temporary home. A giant, lost in the forest, with his hands full of cows, would not help anyone. He had a feeling he'd never hear the end of it from Sam or Dean.  
  
"This should be enough. Once we get back, I'll get a little fire going to get started on cooking ..." he trailed off abruptly. Jacob realized with a faint wince that the steps he'd need to take to get his food ready might look extra gruesome in Sam and Dean's eyes. The cows each weighed more than they did.  
  
Remembering that Dean had told him they weren't letting him out of their sight if they could help it, Jacob changed the subject for a moment. "Are you guys gonna be okay sleeping out here? I guess there's nothing that'll wander close with me around..."  
  
Sam thought about it, sending one glance towards where Dean was trying to find a steady seat. He was barely visible from where Sam was leaning out of the hoodie pocket, a darker blob against a dark green background. A completely different scene than when Sam turned back towards Jacob, leaning slightly back so he could try and meet the giant’s eyes when he glanced back down.  
  
“We’ve gone camping before,” Sam informed Jacob. “On a few hunts, and when we were kids. We can rough it if we have too. I brought enough supplies for a few days of… tracking.” He paused, remembering that  _Jacob_  was the one they were out to track. A kid whose entire world had been pulled out from under his feet. Sam had let Madison down, he didn’t want to let Jacob down.  
  
Jacob nodded, relieved. He had supplies of his own, but none of them would do much good if Sam and Dean could hardly lift them. Once Sam ducked back into the safety of his pocket, he picked up the pace. He remained ever conscious of the small weight tugging down on his hoodie pocket, knowing that the tiny shifts within were entire people. In his  _pocket._  
  
By the time he reached his campsite, the cows had fallen asleep or passed out; he set them down near his cliff and moved a few large rocks so they wouldn't be able to lumber away if they woke up, and then finally offered a hand at the opening of his pocket.  
  
"Last stop," he joked, resisting the urge to simply reach in and scoop them up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hunters:** 0  
>  **Cows:** 1  
>  **Giant:** 3
> 
> **Next:** August 8th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	10. Grand Theft Pillow

Dean blinked blearily at the opening of the pocket after Jacob’s rumbling announcement. He was close to drifting off, lulled by the warmth from Jacob’s body combined with the lack of anything to do, or anything to look at while Jacob traveled. Even the occasional disgruntled groan from Jacob’s stomach became background noise after hearing it so many times.  
  
Pushing himself up, Dean grabbed his duffel and wobbled over to the opening, Sam close behind. It was almost impossible to get solid footing in a pocket, and if either of them went off balance both of them stumbled. He put a hand against the only solid wall to the side, using Jacob to help steady his balance.  
  
The night air was cool and breezy when Dean finally exited the hoodie, tossing his duffel onto Jacob’s hand before crawling to follow. He didn’t trust himself with all these heights, and it felt like he was suspended too far above the ground whether Jacob was sitting or standing.  
  
Sam hopped over to the hand, and Dean gave a good punch to one of the fingers. “That’s for sticking us in a pocket!” he griped.  
  
The finger twitched, nearly jostling Dean where he slumped. "Hey, what else could I do?" Jacob protested indignantly. "I'm not about to toss you guys in my hood. Needed both hands to pick up those cows." Arguing aside, Jacob lowered his hand to the ground once more for the brothers to step down.  
  
Once they were on solid ground again, Jacob paused to look them over. They didn't seem injured, something he was grateful to notice. Then, he leaned over to grab a handful of branches and broken logs he had piled to the side of his cliff. These he placed in his dug out fire pit.  
  
"I'll light this up first so there's light and you guys can just chill for a bit," he explained. Then, with a glance over to his makeshift corral for the cows, he added, "Gonna get those ready next. I know all this stuff is kinda freaky and I'm really ... "  _Terrifying, monstrous, horrible..._  "Big, but please don't freak out or anything, okay?"  
  
Dean arched an eyebrow. “Believe it or not, we’ve seen stranger, kid. Just don’t expect me to be the one to pull the trigger on Bessie. I like it better when I don’t have to look my meat in the eyes.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, but followed Dean out of the way of the giant. “You couldn’t be a  _little_  more diplomatic when you talk?” he asked pointedly. There was a fallen log close to the edge of the area Jacob had cleared, this made a good place to sit for the two normal-sized brothers while Jacob worked on his fire.  
  
“What?! It’s  _true,_ ” Dean protested, sounding put-upon.  
  
“Good thing  _you’re_  not the giant, then,” Sam said, sounding satisfied. “You wouldn’t make it a day out here hunting your own food.”  
  
Jacob chuckled dryly. "It's something you learn fast," he assured them. He dug into a side pouch of his nearby backpack for the supplies he'd need to get his fire ready. For a moment, he could pretend he didn't have an audience to his every move.  
  
One item he set aside to begin with. In the darkening light, it was difficult to see beyond the fact that it was the size of one of the brothers. The other, Jacob shielded with his other hand while he flicked at the wheel with his thumb. A flame sparked to life and revealed it to be a simple plastic lighter, enormous and yet dwarfed in Jacob's hands. It made lighting up a bonfire’s worth of wood easy, and soon the fire cast a cozy glow over the clearing.  
  
Then, Jacob could pick up the mystery object from before and reveal it to be a pocket knife. The blade, dulled by years of use, would still be a formidable weapon against any normal-sized human. Jacob handled it with care and reached for one of his captured cows.  
  
Efficient work and speedy movements combined to help Jacob finish the process as quickly as he could. He resolutely ignored Sam and Dean and tried to keep to himself while he prepared most of entire cows on spits that he could prop near the fire. Soon enough, a more familiar smell joined the air along with the scent of moss and dirt.  
  
Jacob sighed and used some dirt to scrub at the blade of his pocket knife and his hands. "Nothing to it at all," he commented wearily, finally glancing over to where Dean and Sam had settled themselves. "...You guys want me to cut a bit off for you and set it aside?"  
  
Dean eyed Jacob’s knife with suspicion but Sam offered him a warm smile. “Only if you have enough,” he said, not put off by the bloody process. More than once case had seen them covered in blood themselves, though neither brother had ever hunted their own food. They gravitated towards diners and fast food restaurants, and Bobby Singer’s attempts to teach them big game hunting had gone nowhere.  
  
They were both as leery of watching Jacob prepare his food as Jacob was of being watched, so while preparations were going, the brothers dug into their supplies. The flickering light from the fire provided a decent backdrop for Dean to scan over their father’s journal, searching for any hints on what might have done this to Jacob. Sam grabbed a granola bar, taking advantage of time to snack. If they wanted to keep an eye on Jacob at all times, they’d need to alternate shifts that night, so he wanted to keep his energy up. Which meant if Jacob offered them food, they’d take it. They couldn’t afford to be picky at a time like this.  
  
Jacob nodded. Then, the tedious process of watching the food cook and turning it to make sure he didn't burn it brought a silence over the camp again. This silence, at least, didn't feel as awkward as it could. The day was nearing its end, and Jacob was nearing the end of his energy to worry as much.  
  
When the outer layers of meat were cooked enough, Jacob cut away a small piece and then cut that in half, setting the rations aside on a stone near the fire for Sam and Dean. "Don't have any plates... sorry. Forgot all that stuff when I was accidentally terrorizing the campgrounds."  
  
“We’ll have to work on that,” Dean joked as he grabbed the slabs of meat from the rock, offering one up to Sam. Compared to Jacob, the pieces were mere slivers, but to Sam and Dean they were more than a normal meal, though the butchering was understandably clumsy. “Next time you’re terrorizing anyone, remember your shopping list.”  
  
The silence was companionable as the three residents of the clearing by the cliff set into their respective dinners. In the course of one day, Sam and Dean had not only met and engaged the giant that was ‘eating campers,’ they’d also befriended him and unraveled a good deal of the mystery surrounding his appearance in the forest.  
  
None of that meant they were comfortable watching him eat  _three entire cows,_  and Dean found himself focusing down on his own meal when he saw Jacob take a bite. No matter how nice the guy was, it was frighteningly obvious who had all the power if they needed it. Just the pocket knife alone was their size, though Jacob wouldn’t need help. Dean had felt the power in those fingers when Jacob grabbed them… and stuck them in a tree.  
  
In retrospect, it was clear that Jacob had never wanted a fight. He’d done everything in his power to escape, from running from them through the forest to trying to stick them in a tree to keep them in place. Dogged determination had ruined those efforts, resulting in the confrontation at the waterfall.  
  
Dean had to place aside the rest of his slab of meat eventually, unable to finish it. It was  _huge,_  for one thing, and underseasoned for another. He contemplated offering Jacob some of their salt the next time he tried cooking beef. It might help with the flavor, and they had plenty. Salt was one thing that they could find cheap wherever they went.  
  
Pushing himself up from the log, Dean waved Sam off. “I’m gonna check out the perimeter,” he said. “See what we have to work with.”  
  
Sam nodded, settling back down to finish his own food. He tossed Dean a flashlight from his bag. “Just in case.”  
  
Dean gave Sam a salute with the flashlight and walked away with a jaunty swagger.  
  
Jacob was given a wide berth, but more out of wary respect. A shift in the wrong direction could knock Sam or Dean from their feet or worse. Those hands definitely looked heavy enough to crush even the Impala.  
  
Once he checked out the edge of the forest around them, staying within the warm glow of the firelight, Dean drifted over to Jacob’s belongings, eyeing up the massive bag with an amazed gleam in his eyes that he hid most of the time. That bag could hold their old home in Lawrence if Jacob wanted it to.  
  
Then, to the side of the bag, Dean spotted something far more interesting.  
  
Jogging the last few feet, Dean found a pillow shoved up next to the bag. Just as massive as Jacob and the rest of his belongings, they could use the pillow as a pedestal for the Impala if they wanted to. He couldn’t resist scaling up it, discovering a fluffy, soft surface that he almost sank right into.  
  
Sam and Jacob’s voices grew soft in the distance and Dean found his eyes fluttering shut after a long day of running and tracking through the forest, and adrenaline-pumping moments where they had feared their fate would catch up to them at last in Jacob’s fists.  
  
Dean slumbered peacefully on.  
  


* * *

  
Sam delicately put down the remnants of his own food next to Dean’s, wiping his mouth with the back of his jacket sleeve and wishing he’d thought to bring extra handkerchiefs.  
  
Their father’s journal was left to the side with Dean’s duffel, so Sam took advantage of it being undefended and claimed it for himself. It was only a few pages in before he remembered that Jacob’s story was cut off by his stomach growling and subsequent running from them, and Sam turned his eyes back up to the giant. “Is there any way you can tell me the rest of what happened when you found yourself… growing?” Sam asked delicately, trying to make up for Dean’s lacks in the diplomacy department.  
  
Jacob gave it a few seconds’ thought before shrugging. "I don't remember anything out of the ordinary. I was just wandering around, I'd already had dinner with the guys at our campsite, so I didn't find some magic mushroom lying around," he mused. He watched his little fire flicker and burn as the next part came back to him.  
  
"Then I was just shooting up through the trees. For a second I thought I stepped in a trap or something. When I saw over the trees I wanted to go ask for help, but everyone at the campgrounds was running and screaming, and there was someone with a shotgun firing at me so I just ran." He shrugged his massive shoulders and glanced over to Sam. His helplessness from that moment came back to him now; Jacob might have a lot of power, but he didn't want it nor know what to do with it. "I was hoping it'd just wear off."  
  
Sam frowned as he thought it all over. “If it hasn’t worn off by now, it’s unlikely it’ll just wear off. Tomorrow one of us will head into town. A friend of ours, Bobby Singer, has the largest library on the supernatural in the US. We’ll give him a call, see what he can dig up. We can check local legends, too, see if this has ever happened to anyone in the area before. It might be a recurring thing.”  
  
Stretching out his legs, Sam leaned back to relax. “Either way, there’s not much we can do tonight since there’s no service out here.” The heat from the fire was just enough to warm Sam from the distance he was sitting from the huge bonfire. To Jacob, it might be fairly small, but in reality the teenager was using the remains of entire trees to feed the fire.  
  
Jacob nodded absently. Then, a sudden wave of exhaustion rolled over him, reminding him of the day he'd had. From his hopeful excursion in search of food to becoming the target of a couple determined hunters, he'd been all over the woods. He had a decent amount of food settling in his stomach and so much relief that he'd found someone who would listen and help.  
  
"I might get some sleep, then," he decided. He brushed some dirt onto the edges of his fire to shrink it down to a more manageable flame, and then shifted where he sat to reach for his bag and pillow.  
  
His hand halted in midair. "Forgot he wandered around," he said sheepishly, pointing out Dean's knocked-out form to Sam.  
  
Sam could barely hide a grin at the sight of the tiny form sprawled out on the pillow near Jacob. Dean, a full-sized and dangerous hunter, might as well be a kitten in the center of the pillow, trying to claim it for his own.   
  
“So much for ‘checking out the perimeter,’ ” Sam quipped, remembering Dean’s initial plan when he finished dinner. Pulling himself to his feet, Sam wandered closer to where Jacob and the giant backpack was sitting, wondering at the idea of Dean falling asleep so easily near a  _giant._  He had to be completely exhausted after the merry chase Jacob lead them on through the woods. “Guess he’s leaving the first watch for me.”  
  
Pausing when he was still a dozen feet from Jacob, Sam glanced up. “Want me to wake him up? I can get him out of your way.”  
  
Jacob shook his head. "Nah, he can keep it," he replied, waving a hand dismissively. He stopped when he realized how big the motion probably looked to Sam, and instead watched the pillow for a few seconds. Dean didn't respond to them talking at all; he was out like a light.  
  
"Gonna move this, though, so he's not right under the cliff," Jacob warned. Both hands dropped to either side of the pillow and, with as much gentleness as someone 120 feet tall could muster, nudged the pillow along until it was closer to where Sam and Dean had settled themselves earlier.  
  
"You're, um, taking watch?" Jacob asked quietly. Inwardly, he knew exactly what Sam would be watching for. Instead of mentioning it, he said, "Lemme know if you need my help, or something."  
  
Next, Jacob finally allowed himself to lie down. Since his pillow was commandeered, he moved his backpack closer and lay his head on it, facing the cliff. He tried to take up as little space as he could before the dancing shadows of firelight on the cliff wall lulled him and he finally sighed, content with yet another night of sleeping outside.  
  


* * *

  
Sam took up his post once more, a sawed-off shotgun by his side. He had no intention of using it on the giant that was sleeping peacefully in the clearing, but he didn’t plan on letting his guard down while they were out in the forest. Other animals made their homes out there, and if a bear wandered nearby, Sam intended to be prepared.  
  
From time to time, his eyes would stray away from the dark forest and over to the slumbering giant, and Dean on a pillow. There wasn’t much in Sam’s life that could be considered ‘normal,’ but this was one of the oddest cases they’d gone on.  
  
Jacob, a normal teenager, was thought dead by his entire family and all his friends. He had no one else in the world to look out for him. Only two hunters who’d spent the beginning of that day doing their damndest to take him down.  
  
Yet here they all were. Jacob shifted in his sleep from time to time, but no more than Sam would expect. In fact, there were people who moved around a good deal more. The longer the night drew on, the smaller the giant seemed to curl into himself, trying to be as small as he possibly could. It was a lost cause, but it brought a sad smile to Sam’s face to watch the attempt.  
  
Four hours later, practically on the dot, Dean woke up. Though he certainly was surprised to find himself on a pillow, his internal clock woke him like clockwork from his necessary four hours.  
  
Sam glanced up as Dean strolled casually over. “So how’s the perimeter look?” he asked with a knowing look in his eyes.  
  
Dean waved him off, trying to play it cool. “Dude, you gotta try that pillow. It’s like sleeping on little clouds from heaven!”  
  
He sat down with a huff next to Sam, stretching out his jean-clad legs. The heels of his boots scraped the bare dirt, leaving a divot in the ground in their wake.  
  
Both of them steadily watched the giant sleep. It was hard to focus on anything else, especially since they didn’t fully understand what they’d gotten themselves into.  
  
To Sam that didn’t matter. Only one thing mattered, and he needed to let Dean know. “He’s only a kid, Dean,” Sam said quietly, dropping his voice down so Jacob wouldn’t overhear even if he happened to be awake. “A kid that got caught up in events he can’t control. We have to help him.”  
  
Dean huffed. “We’ll do what we can, Sam. We’re not giving up on him like everyone else did, he deserves better.” His voice matched Sam’s in volume. “But if he snaps, we have to be ready. There’s no way we can take him down right now with what we’ve got on hand.”  
  
Sam nodded, his eyes sad. If Jacob killed, they wouldn’t have a choice. He would cross the line between human and monster, and once that line was crossed… there was no coming back from it. “Bobby?”  
  
“I figure I’ll hike out tomorrow and give him a call.” Dean shifted enough to free his cell from his pocket. “They weren’t kidding when they said no service. If anyone can figure out what’s going on, it’ll be Bobby. And we need more supplies if we want to stay out here.”  
  
“Maybe you should grab a tent,” Sam offered up as a suggestion, knowing that if Dean was going to town, he would remain behind with Jacob.  
  
Dean flicked his fingers dismissively, finding that the least of his concerns. “If there’s time.”  
  
They remained up together for another half hour, then Sam took his turn for a nap. Jacob didn’t stir once when the little hunter scaled up the pillow.  
  
Dean took the graveyard shift, watching over the campground with haunted eyes as his mind replayed the possible paths their last day had taken, and all the ways the next few days could go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next:** August 12th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	11. Errands

The forest around them chittered and sang with the sounds of the night animals making their rounds. The light of the dying fire reflected in more than one set of curious fox or opossum eyes checking the clearing out. Since Jacob had buried the remains of the cows, nothing drew them any further into the clearing and the Winchesters went unbothered.  
  
Bats fluttered in the sky throughout the night and owls hooted ominously, but Jacob slept on. His breaths were slow, steady gales that kicked up dust under the cliff that he claimed as his shelter. The night wore on while he got much needed rest from a more exciting day than his usual.  
  
By the time the sky began to change colors, Jacob was already drifting back to awareness. His placid face twisted into a faint frown as he felt a crick in his neck, and he rolled slowly onto his back. A huge hand lifted to sluggishly drag down his face and cover a yawn.  
  
Then, he remembered that Sam and Dean had stayed, and his eyes shot open. He looked aside and sat up, finding Dean still awake on watch duty. Tiny arms were crossed over an equally small chest while the hunter watched the giant awaken.  
  
"Um. Morning," Jacob greeted, fascinated all over again by the sight of someone so small.  
  
Dean relaxed after the mellow greeting. “Mornin,’ ” he quipped right back with a ready chuckle. “Good to see someone else is finally ready to join me in the land of the living.” He jerked his head pointedly at the pillow, where Sam lay with his arms and legs splayed in all directions, slumbering on. “Sleeping Beauty over there hasn’t budged in hours.”  
  
Standing up, Dean stretched his arms over his head, ignoring the fascination in Jacob’s eyes. On the second day of hanging around a giant, it was getting easier to see Jacob as a normal guy. It was even becoming normal to hear a voice that boomed over theirs without any effort, even when Jacob lowered it down for their sake.  
  
After he felt the bones in his back stretch with an audible  _pop!_  Dean let his arms drop back down by his sides. Jacob wasn’t the only one fascinated, and Dean found himself remembering just how large the quarter alone was compared to him, and here he was talking to the giant whose pocket that quarter came from.  
  
“So what do you do around here for fun?” Dean asked casually as his mind was laying out his plans for that day. Once Sam came around, they’d need to get started if he wanted to make it all the way to and from town.  
  
A bemused look crossed Jacob's face, before a sheepish embarrassment replaced it. He glanced around the clearing, his small patch of temporary home out in the wilderness. Aside from the clear evidence of him pacing around and pulling up trees, there was little to it.  
  
It wasn't like he had room to go jogging.  
  
"I just .... I guess I look around," he answered haltingly. "Finding food and water sources mostly. So I know. At least I got a pretty good view of everything out of all this."  
  
Dean nodded thoughtfully. “You’ll have one of us stickin’ around today, but I think a trip to town is in order to stock up. We could use some extra supplies if we’re stayin’ in the forest with you while we find a way to fix this. And  _you_  will keep your head down and out of trouble so no one else finds us here.” He didn’t like the idea of a hunter like Gordon finding them all in the forest. That man already had a chip on his shoulder when it came to the brothers. There was no way he’d consider a word they said when it came to Jacob after the way he’d reacted to the vampires.  
  
Jacob might be big, but he wasn’t invulnerable, and if he needed to defend himself, people could die. They needed to keep that from happening at all costs.  
  
“No wandering off on us again,” Dean said sternly, remembering how fast Jacob could vanish if he wanted to.  
  
At first, the attitude from Dean surprised Jacob. Not many people would up and scold a giant like that.  
  
Then, he realized he preferred it over the wary cowering he'd seen through the bars of his traps so many times in the last few weeks. If this was just how Dean acted with people, Jacob would gladly accept it. It meant he could feel normal, at least in a way.  
  
"I definitely don't  _try_ to be noticed," he replied with a shrug. "Today I was going to go and get the rest of my traps ... get rid of those so I don't catch anyone else."  
  
After catching even Dean, Jacob didn't think the others would be successful. He had no idea how else he should go about catching things like deer or the other game in the forest, but he'd do it without endangering people if he could.  
  
“Sam will help you,” Dean said. “He can keep watch while you’re out there. Right, Sammy?”  
  
The last part was hollered when Dean saw Sam starting to rouse. Sam blinked blearily up at Jacob and then turned towards Dean. “Whah?” he asked sleepily, running a hand through his messy hair.  
  
“You’ll help Jacob out when he goes searching for any other traps he’s got in the forest,” Dean clarified. “Keep him out of trouble.”  
  
“Sure, whatever,” Sam mumbled, brushing a hand over his face.  
  
Jacob smirked at the sight of Sam's slow waking. The sluggish movements and lack of much concern was a huge contrast to what Jacob had grown used to in the last few weeks. No one else sat still when he was so close, so he never really had much chance to see their various actions in miniature. Delicate little hands and arms (that he had to remind himself were actually just normal) moved about with so much dexterity that he'd miss it if he didn't pay attention.  
  
Then, he glanced back to Dean. One hand reached down and gently nudged at the quarter sticking out of Dean's bag again. "You've got a lot to carry back and it's a bit of a hike," he pointed out. "You want me to get you there?"  
  
Dean put his hand protectively over his duffel bag and gave the huge hand that hovered nearby a mistrustful look, wondering if Jacob was going to pluck the coin away. “It’s not as heavy as it looks…” he countered slowly.  
  
As the world around him started to become clear, Sam joined in the conversation as he slid forward on the pillow to reach the side. “It wouldn’t hurt,” he pointed out as he jumped back down to solid ground. “You want to be back by nightfall, right? We’re not close to the car anymore.”  
  
Dean shook his head. “I’m not planning on taking the car,” he explained. “I’ll leave it just in case you need to get anywhere in a hurry. My ride back’s all planned out. I just need to find a road to hike back to town.”  
  
Sam gave him an odd look, but Dean didn’t explain. Leaving the Impala wasn’t like Dean, that was for sure. Sam could count on one hand the number of times his brother had let anyone else use the car… willingly.  
  
 _What are you planning?_  Sam thought as he met the green eyes that were so used to hiding secrets behind them.  
  
“That means you’ll definitely need a hand getting back, otherwise you’ll still be in the forest when night falls,” Sam said at last.  
  
Jacob nodded, though he was far less in tune with Dean's ways than Sam. He suspected nothing out of the ordinary. "Definitely too far to walk by yourself out here," he agreed.  
  
The prospect of getting more help with his strange case of giant-ness put Jacob in a brighter mood than he'd been for some time. There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes after the restful night. He shifted so he was propped on his knees before lowering his hands to the ground for Sam and Dean.  
  
"I'll getcha to a road and then we'll make sure to get those traps," he announced, pleased with the plan for the day.   
  
Dean eyed the offered hands. “Don’t go getting used to this,” he griped as he stepped onto the fingers that led to the broad palm. “And make sure to watch your step! There’s no telling when we might run into more people.”  
  
Sam was still trying to put more order to his hair as he followed Dean. “Chill,” he yawned, working his way to full wakefulness without any coffee. Easier said than done. “Jacob’s made it on his own  _this_  long, right? I’m sure a few days with us while we figure things out won’t be a problem.”  
  
“Easy for you to say,” Dean grumbled.  
  
Jacob didn't let Dean's griping bring his attitude down. In the back of his mind, he knew it was foolish to get his hopes up. He could very well spend the rest of his days at this size, and if resources thinned out or someone else found him, those days could be limited. At least he wasn’t alone.  
  
He waited an extra second to lift his hands from the ground. "I'll be careful. I don't go near the camping and hiking areas since this happened," he assured them. Then, he stood, once again taking the Winchesters on a speedy ride up into the air, and they were off. "I kinda learned my lesson the first time. Me and crowds, we just don't mix."  
  
“Crowds are overrated,” Dean muttered, edging his way towards the center of Jacob’s palm and away from the sight of how far down the ground was from where they were held. Being in a hand was never going to be high on his list of preferred ways to travel. He had too little control, and it was too close to flying on an airplane.  
  
Only without any walls, or seats, or seat _belts._  
  
“I don’t mind a good bar or a dance club, but I’ll take a pass on city life. Too many people trying to stick their noses into your business,” he continued, clinging to an inane subject to avoid thinking about the heights.  
  
Sam ignored Dean, putting a hand on one of Jacob’s fingers to hold his balance while he peered around the forest. At the height they were with Jacob standing, he could closely watch the treetops. Birds fluttered in the morning sun, darting in and out of the upper branches. A distant hawk could be seen soaring on a warm thermal, its shadow keeping the other birds down within the trees to avoid its notice.  
  
“Do you know where the closest road to town is?” Sam called curiously over his shoulder.  
  
Jacob smiled sheepishly. "I have a general idea."  
  


* * *

  
It took no more than fifteen minutes for them to find their way towards one of the roads skirting around the park lands and through the thick trees. The further down the slope Jacob went, the more cautious he became, stooping as he walked to keep below the tree line.  
  
His strides were so long that it hardly mattered. He had some help from Sam with the compass, and finally stopped while the road was just out of sight of him. It wasn't often used, but he could cause a wreck if someone happened to see him while driving by.  
  
"Careful walking back, dude," Jacob whispered as he knelt to lower his hands once more. "Some of those corners are sharp, make sure no crazy asshole swerves into you."  
  
Dean waved him off. “Got it all under control. This won’t be the first time I’ve hitchhiked.” He turned to Sam, holding out the keys to the Impala. “In case something comes up, hang onto these.”  
  
Sam took them. “You sure this is a good plan? Separating like this?”  
  
“We can’t exactly take Jake into town with us, and we sure as hell can’t leave him out here on his own.” Dean slapped Sam on the arm. “Just trust me, okay? Meet me where we parked the Impala around 7 at night.”  
  
They checked their watches to make sure they were synced up, and Dean stepped off of Jacob’s hand. “Make sure to watch out for the big bad wolf out there, Sammy,” he smirked, then turned towards the road.  
  
“Somehow I doubt we’ll have trouble with any wolves!”  
  
Dean gave a jaunty wave as he headed down the road, intent on his destination. It certainly wasn’t the first time getting around without the Impala, but at least this time he wasn’t leaving the mom-van behind. Dean would take hitchhiking down the road over driving like a soccer mom.  
  
Jacob leaned forward just enough to watch Dean disappear behind a curve in the winding road. Then, he sat back and lifted his hands so he wouldn't loom over Sam so completely. "Okay ... there's three traps left out there somewhere. I really did hope I'd catch more animals in those than I have, I guess they're better at avoiding it than I thought."  
  
With the task ahead of them, Jacob shifted back away from the road and crept away with his hands still cupped safely under Sam. His "creeping" steps crushed underbrush and foliage under his car-sized boots, and more than one brave squirrel scolded him as he went.  
  
"You said you guys hunt  _monsters,_ " he began uncertainly. "Does stuff like this happen a lot? Not  _this_  specifically, but just ... something happens to someone and they might have to be killed?"  
  
Sam’s lips thinned. He bought himself a second to consider his answer by kneeling down on Jacob’s hand, cutting down the chances of him being jarred off by a stray movement.  
  
The subject was a sore spot for him, considering his recent relationship with Madison. Killing her was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life, and Dean didn’t leave the house dry-eyed either. The woman had done nothing to earn her punishment, and hadn’t even  _known_  she was a werewolf up until the very end.  
  
“It happens,” Sam confirmed reluctantly. “Not many people  _know_  about it, because there are hunters like me an’ my brother who do our damndest to keep monsters like that from claiming any victims.”  
  
He glanced away from Jacob, distaste for the subject clear, though he knew they couldn’t hide it from the teenager. Jacob might have to face his own death in the future, and he deserved to know why.  
  
“Out there,” Sam waved an arm towards the rest of the world, “monsters live. Some in the dark corners, but a bunch right next door. Werewolves, vampires, vengeful spirits… a thousand things that are supposed to be ‘only legends.’ Our mom… when Dean was little and I was just a baby, a demon attacked our house and killed our mom. So we got introduced to it from the start. Our dad taught us how to hunt, and that’s why we’re here. It’s  _possible_  that we might have to kill you, but it’s just as likely that you can resist it. Jacob, we found vampires that don’t drink human blood! There’s a way for them, and we’ll find a way for you, whether we get you back to normal or not.”  
  
Sam looked away, realizing he’d gone further than he’d meant. “Just… don’t ever give up hope, okay? Whatever it is that did this to you, we’ll track it down. The legends about giants say one thing, but legends aren’t always right.”  
  
"Yeah," Jacob replied quietly, though his voice still startled several birds into the air. Sam's story sobered him, and he couldn't help but linger on the gruesome details. Sam and Dean were only  _children_  when they got into the life that Jacob couldn't understand yet. Monsters weren't supposed to  _exist._  
  
 _And yet here I am,_  he thought before he could stop himself. After so many weeks of his isolation, broken only by people caught in traps screaming and crying for their lives, it was hard. Jacob was more optimistic with the brothers' promise of help than he'd been since he grew, but the gloom still hung over his head.  
  
He sincerely hoped it never came to it. If he was decided to be a threat, he'd rather lay down and accept their verdict. He didn't want to hurt someone else just because he had been hurt.  
  
Jacob had only been at this giant thing for a few weeks, but so far he hadn't even come close to wanting to hurt anyone. He could make it. He had someone that believed that he could.  
  
At length, his heavy footfalls carried him to a house-sized dip in the ground. Worn away by some river ages ago, it was a good place to hide one of his traps, and he nudged at the pile of branches and foliage concealing it. "Here's one of 'em," he announced. "Didn't catch anything." He sat down with a heavy sigh and lowered his hands for Sam. "I'll need both hands to take it apart."  
  
Sam stepped off without argument, sizing up the trap with a knowing eye. When Dean and Jacob had returned, he hadn’t had a chance to ask what had happened in the forest, but he’d heard the trap go off in the distance. It didn’t take a large stretch of the imagination to realize exactly  _why_  Jacob was newly determined to take all the traps down after weeks of using them.  
  
Seeing the trap set up the way it was supposed to be gave Sam a new respect for the fact that Jacob  _didn’t_  have any intention of harming anyone. It would be so easy. A trap like that was bigger than an RV. Sam or Dean couldn’t break the bars, and it took brute force to open it up, a level of strength that no one could match but Jacob.  
  
“We’ll find something else,” Sam said quietly. “You won’t go hungry.” He gave a halting smile at the memory of the night before. “Even if it means rustling up some more cattle.”  
  
Jacob paused in mid reach towards the trap to glance over at Sam. A smile grew on his face and by the time he grabbed the trap and dragged it closer, he was grinning. "Yeah? I'm honestly a little surprised that you guys are so chill about the stealing. It's not exactly the best option but I doubt the guy would accept a really big quarter."  
  
Sam had to laugh at that. “Yeah, well, our definition of ‘normal’ might be a little skewed,” he warned. “We don’t mix well with the authorities, so you’re not the only one that’ll stand out if we need to talk to the police. Dean’ll antagonize them the second he starts talking, and usually he has to find a way out of cuffs ten minutes later.  _Stealing_  is the least we have to worry about.”  
  
Jacob's hands strained for only a second before the right spring came loose in the trap and the tension left the entire thing. Sam took a step back, making sure to stay out of his way. Jacob dismantled the pieces until he had a pile of flat metal grids sitting on his leg, and the whole process barely took a couple minutes.  
  
"You guys have been chill about a lot, actually," Jacob mused, and this time the gratitude in his voice couldn't be ignored. "All things considered. Nice to know not everyone will run and scream."  
  
A few of their past escapades flashed past Sam’s vision. “We do what we have to,” he said as he remembered calling the police on a shapeshifter wearing Dean’s face. “Even if it’s against the law. There’s no one else who can do what we do.”  
  
"I'll take your word for it," Jacob replied. A part of him was still starstruck that people like Sam and Dean were out there, fighting to keep people safe. They were badasses.  
  
He offered Sam a hand to continue on their way, surprised that the action was becoming his normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next:** August 15th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	12. Rendezvous with a Giant

By the time they trekked all across the mountain and found the last of the traps, Jacob had quite the pile of metal grids tucked under one arm. The other hand was cupped under Sam and held close to his chest to avoid dropping the little guy, and the clearing, cramped and empty, was a welcome sight. Jacob set down the traps with a loud clatter of metal against metal.  
  
"Got that done faster than I thought. You're a pretty good helper," he quipped as he sat in the shade of his cliff and held Sam in front of himself so they could talk.  
  
“Someone’s gotta keep watch.” While he spoke, Sam was busy glancing around the clearing from his new height. It was the first opportunity to get a good look at the place while in Jacob’s hands. Previously, he’d been placed down quickly or distracted by being in Jacob’s hands while he walked. Or the night was too dark around them to see everything.  
  
From this angle, it was easy to see how small the cleared-out area was for Jacob. As huge as it all could seem for Sam and Dean, there would barely be enough room for the kid to stretch out fully, instead of curling up to sleep like the night before.  
  
With the bag sitting to the side, along with Jacob’s pillow and a firepit that could fit a pool in it, Sam could almost imagine  _he_  was the small one. Only the trees that surrounded the area broke the illusion.  
  
“Will those fit in your bag?” Sam asked. The scale of the items threw him off, making it difficult to tell just how much Jacob’s bag would hold. It would fit the Impala. That was really all Sam needed to see before deciding to never venture inside.  
  
Jacob turned his head to the side to consider his bag and the pile of metal. "Yeah, I got them all to fit before," he replied. He didn't sound too concerned. "I've just got an extra jacket in there right now, and another lighter somewhere... a lot of my stuff was in the tent, though. I'm glad I knew some things about survival already."  
  
He remembered thinking it was so lucky that he had the traps in his bag. They would be his way to catch coyotes and deer and other animals out here to avoid starving. He had thought he had it all figured out. Then the traps started catching humans, and Jacob's pride in his own plan had begun to dwindle.  
  
Sam seemed to follow Jacob’s line of thought, frowning. “Y’know, it’s not your fault people got caught in the traps,” he said. “Animals are better at recognizing something that’s out of place, or maybe they can smell it. The last thing a hiker will consider is the fact that there’s  _giant_  traps in the woods. It’s just good that you’re not the type to keep the people trapped. We’ve run into plenty who would, humans and monsters both. Dean always says that people are crazier than any monsters he'd ever fought. At least  _demons_  have a clear-cut reason for why they’re killing.”  
  
Jacob's eyes wandered back to the pile of traps. He remembered how small Dean had looked, backed up to the side opposite him with his weapon held at the ready. Despite his experience with hunting, he hadn't expected the trap any more than the park ranger or the horse rider. No one else had any reason to believe Jacob would simply let them go once he caught them.  
  
He chuckled briefly, but had to stop himself before the action translated to his hand and jostled Sam. "Y'know, yesterday Dean told me I'm 'a lot to take in,' and now I'm kinda thinking  _no shit._  I didn't think any of this stuff was real but now you could tell me unicorns really do gallop around on clouds and I'd probably believe you."  
  
Sam’s smile turned wry at that. ‘A lot to take in’ was so mild, but so like Dean to avoid telling Jacob just how nervous he’d made them at first. All the stories from town had resulted in the brothers worrying Jacob was exactly like that-- a maneating giant just waiting to take advantage of them. They knew better now, and needed to find a way to get Jacob back to his life.  
  
Before anything  _else_  went wrong.  
  
“Bigfoot’s a hoax,” Sam chirped brightly, remembering the size of Jacob’s footprint back when they were tracking him. Bigfoot might do a double-take at the sight. “And don’t expect to find any little green aliens running around. It’s the rest you gotta worry about.” He eyed Jacob up. “But probably not until you’re back to normal. A vampire might be as annoying as a mosquito right now.”  
  
"Ah," Jacob said, glancing at his own great size again. Compared to Sam or anyone else his size, Jacob was colossal, and he had his doubts that any monsters would bother him. They'd be smaller than his hands and even with some extra strength they probably couldn't match his.  
  
Jacob realized belatedly that he had Sam held what was probably a couple stories off the ground. "Uh, sorry, did you want down? I guess now all we have to do is wait for Dean, right?"  
  
Sam nodded to both. “I’ll show you where the Impala’s parked when it’s time,” he said, accepting Jacob’s offer to get down. He stepped down off the hand when it was lowered, glancing briefly behind and reminded of how big Jacob was all over again. Even sitting down the teenager towered above the entire clearing. Only the cliff behind him was able to dwarf Jacob, and that was clearly why he’d chosen this clearing. It was one of the few places that offered him a decent amount of cover.  
  
“I’m just not  _completely_  sure what Dean’s up to, since he didn’t take the Impala with him,” Sam admitted, fingering the set of keys in his pocket. For emergencies, Dean had said, but what kind of emergency would he be able to use them for? If he wanted to get to the car in a timely manner, Jacob would have to help him.  
  
Sam sat back on the log he and Dean had claimed the night before for when they kept watch over the clearing. He watched as Jacob sat back carefully to lean on that cliff and watch the sky wistfully, hardly noticing a couple boulders that broke away and crashed to the ground. Suddenly it made sense why he had moved the pillow away the night before, putting Dean or Sam out of danger. Sam remembered how Jacob had tried to curl up into as small a ball as he could, and his face softened. Jacob was a gentle person at heart. They had to find a way to help him.  
  


* * *

  
The day passed them by at a relaxed pace. Jacob had the opportunity to learn more from Sam about the supernatural things that lurked out there, preying on victims every day. He learned of the potential causes for his own affliction that the brothers had thought most likely. Magic and monsters had never once been a concern of his, and now they were at the fore of his mind. Magic had made him a monster right out of a fairy tale.  
  
Even with Sam's assurances that they'd figure it out, Jacob couldn't help but let those thoughts run rampant in his head. It wasn't lost on him that he was still under watch. There was still a chance that he could snap without any control, like a werewolf, or a spirit spotting something that angered it. Jacob was dangerous.  
  
By the time he was offering Sam a hand again to go and fetch Dean, Jacob's mood had dipped again from his optimism when he woke. Even if they could find a cure, it could be hard to get or take a while, or it might not be worth the trouble.  
  
He smiled faintly. "You'll have to help me with directions to your car," he said. "I don't know the area down there as well as up here, since, y’know, torches and pitchforks and stuff."   
  
Sam snorted at that. “People wouldn’t know a real monster if it was looking them in the eyes,” he said as he stepped onto the offered hand. Werewolves and vampires, hidden in plain sight while shapeshifters went on to kill with their victim’s face on. Meanwhile, there was Jacob, just a regular kid trying his best to survive while people screamed and ran.  
  
Once in Jacob’s hand, Sam dropped down to a squat to go through his bag. “After we went on a case in the wilderness, I learned from Bobby how to navigate if we ever get stranded,” he explained while withdrawing the compass into the light. “Dean’s great at tracking, but hopeless when it comes to the rest of camping.”  
  
Jacob grinned, though the speck of a compass in Sam's hand could be anything to his view. He had to keep reminding himself that everything they had and did was utterly normal while he was out of place. He was careful as he lifted his hand and rose to his feet. If Sam lost track of his compass, Jacob would be zero help in finding it again.  
  
"I've been camping since I was a little kid," he told his passenger, a deep voice rumbling right out of the chest where he anchored his hand. "Dad used to take me a lot and I got one of my buddies into it, kinda. He's not a fan of roughing it like this, though."  
  
With the land spread out before them, Sam glanced at the compass and recalled the path he and Dean had taken before Jacob’s accidental kidnapping. He pointed in the general direction of where they’d come from, and quickly put his hand down to steady himself when Jacob started walking.  
  
“Dad taught us a lot about hunting,” Sam said as Jacob began the journey back, his sweeping steps covering the ground almost as fast as the Impala would be able to. “But Bobby’s the one that really took us out in the woods and taught us tracking. He wanted us to learn  _real_  hunting, but he could never get us to pull the trigger on a deer. Dean would complain that you can’t just shoot Bambi like that.” Sam grinned at the memory. One of the few good ones that he treasured from childhood.  
  
"Yeah, I don't really use guns for this, either," Jacob replied. There were several healing pinpricks on his hands that told him what Sam and Dean  _would_  use a gun for. He was glad to be past that before they'd managed to shoot at his eyes. "I just trap rabbits, mostly. They're not so good for rabbits anymore."  
  
He watched his step through the trees the best he could, and couldn’t help the occasional glance at the guy just sitting there on his hand. Sam hardly even seemed worried about the height or the speed they traveled.  
  
The closer to the more populated areas they went, the more cautious Jacob became. If Sam listened to his huge heartbeat, he'd notice it quickening with Jacob's trepidation. He didn't want to repeat the day before. "Should be close, right?" he whispered, pausing to crouch below the tree line and peer at Sam.  
  
Sam eyed up the trees, searching for landmarks he remembered from the day before. It was lucky he’d taken the lead during the trip, leaving Dean to watch their backs. It made finding his way back easier.  
  
“You definitely cover ground fast,” Sam said, spying one of the paths they’d used at first to get deeper into the park before straying off the trail. “Should be right up ahead there.”  
  
He gestured at the trees. Not far from Jacob, they could see the trees begin to thin until they cut out completely in one place. The little dirt-covered parking area the brothers had discovered, far enough off the beaten trail that they wouldn’t need to worry about the Impala being found by any park rangers.  
  
They hoped.  
  
Considering the huge supply of weaponry hidden underneath the fake bottom of the trunk, if it was discovered, it would be impounded and stripped by the police. It would be a risk, getting the car back, and a huge impediment to their work if they needed to rebuild their weapons stash.  
  
Jacob crept forward as quietly as he could, snapping countless twigs and flattening forest litter as he went. The hand Sam used as a platform tilted only slightly as he moved in an effort to keep him from spilling forward right off the edge. The fingers curled up like a railing without Jacob even looking to see if the motion was needed; he'd already gotten the idea in his head to be particularly careful with the small hunter.  
  
When he reached the secluded little car park, he scanned the area. From just within the trees, Jacob saw an overgrown area with one worn out sign against littering, with a side road that wound past it. More trees lined the opposite side.  
  
His eyes quickly found the only car parked there. Shiny black and chrome metal glinted at him from the shadow of a pine tree. Even from his higher vantage point, Jacob saw how well cared for the car was. "That must be the Impala," he noted.  
  
He started to lower his hand to the ground, only to lift it back up again in surprise when a distant sound reached his ears. The motor of a vehicle echoed in the trees, getting closer and closer to them by the second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next:** August 19th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	13. Arriving in Style

Twin beams of light carved a path through the treeline as a vehicle rumbled closer and closer to where Jacob and Sam were cautiously hidden in the trees, a bare dozen feet away from the Impala herself. This engine spoke of power the Impala would never have, simply because it was bigger than would ever fit in the smaller car’s hood.  
  
Eighteen wheels of semi rolled into the clearing, a massive cab with room for a sleeper unit behind the driver’s side bringing in the front with a huge trailer stretching out behind, emblazoned with the logo of a local food chain on the side. A horn blared out a warning from the driver’s side, but until the lights flashed off, they couldn’t make out who was sitting in the seat.  
  
The engine rumbled to a stop not far from the Impala, and the door creaked open.  
  
‘Arriving in style’ was certainly one of Dean’s strongest attributes.  
  
Hopping down from the semi, Dean strolled casually in front of the engine as it audibly powered down, a few resounding clacks echoing from the thick metal. He had his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face. “Miss me, guys?” he called out, swaggering towards the treeline where Jacob’s green hoodie could just be made out.  
  
Jacob let out a sigh that gusted through the nearby tree branches enough to shake several leaves loose. He kept his eyes on Dean while he leaned down just enough to be able to see him better and offer a relieved grin. "I thought for sure someone else would spot me one way or another," he admitted. If he'd had to retreat, the driver no doubt would have heard the noise or felt the rumbling of his steps.  
  
He lowered the hand with Sam at last, releasing him to the ground to join his brother. Jacob's free hand planted on the ground, predictably crushing foliage beneath it.  
  
"What's the truck for, dude?" he asked, glancing over the logo and trying to place where he recognized it from. Then, glancing back at Dean, he raised an eyebrow. "Is this what your secret plan was?"  
  
Sam rolled his eyes as he walked over to where Dean was proudly standing, waiting to bask in the genius of his plan.   
  
“You ripped off a  _food truck?_ ” Sam asked in disbelief.   
  
Dean grinned, holding up a hand. “Not just  _any_  food truck,” he corrected. “A produce truck. Saw it just waitin’ for its driver at the warehouse and figured hey. Why let it wait any longer?”  
  
He lead the way towards the back of the truck, a discernible bounce in his step. “As much as it goes against my grain to say it, man can’t live on meat alone. Jacob could use some of the other major food groups after fending for himself for so long.” It only took Dean a moment to pick the thick padlock on the back of the truck, tossing it out of the way and letting the door roll itself back up to reveal the mountains of fruit and vegetables and grains that filled it. Sam’s eyes lit up in understanding of Dean’s plan from the start.  
  
Jacob had to shift to the side to see what was in the truck. He leaned further out of the trees and, as soon as he saw the contents, his amusement with Dean's smug, confident swagger shifted quickly into wide eyed shock. The other food groups were indeed held within, in a large enough quantity for Jacob to eat well.  
  
"Holy  _shit,_ " he breathed, eyes flickering to different bags of fruit and vegetables, all fresh. There were a few crates that had to be full of bread, too, though most of the shipment seemed dedicated to fruit. Jacob could practically feel his body pining for the nutrients within that he'd missed out on.  
  
"You stole this to help me?" he said, awed nearly beyond the ability to speak. "I don't... what if you get in trouble? There's no way they aren't gonna notice this is gone!"  
  
Dean waved a hand dismissively, though the smirk on his face didn’t waver. His confidence in his plan was absolute, after spending the night before going over it in his mind. The long hours before dawn gave him plenty of time for introspection, watching Jacob and Sam both sleep peacefully.  
  
“It’s going to a good cause,” Dean reasoned for the others’ benefit. “You didn’t ask for any of this and you did a hell of a good job keeping yourself alive long enough for us to find you. I figure you can eat some now and fill up your pockets for later. It’ll be a long time before they think to look in  _this_  clearing for their lost truck.”  
  
“Do you really think we should leave the Impala here with the truck?” Sam asked in concern, his brow furrowed. “It’s a dead giveaway if they  _do_  find the truck, and we won’t be anywhere close to stop them from towing her.”  
  
"Dean... thanks," Jacob cut in, before the conversation could steer any further away. He wanted to make sure that the brothers knew how much it meant that they were so willing to help him, despite the trouble it might bring to them. Trouble like someone connecting their car to the truck burglary.  
  
The car, at least, was something Jacob could possibly help with.  
  
"If you don't want to leave your car where it's hard to get to..." he began, before trailing off sheepishly. Suddenly his idea seemed silly. "I mean, I could just help you get it somewhere closer where you don't have to worry about it."   
  
It didn’t take long for Sam or Dean to figure out what Jacob was talking about. And Dean, unlike Sam and his expression of approval, rejected it instantly.  
  
“ _No._ ”  
  
“Dean, you know it’s for the best,” Sam coaxed, on Jacob’s side. “Jacob can lift the Impala easier than he can lift an eighteen-wheeler, and that way we won’t have to keep coming back to this clearing.”  
  
Dean gave Sam a completely betrayed look. The idea of actually letting someone  _pick his car up,_  was so completely foreign, Dean wasn’t even sure where to begin. He’d never contemplated the possibility of someone picking her up like that. He barely liked anyone else  _touching_  her.  
  
“There’s  _no way_  anyone is picking up my car.” He jabbed a finger at Sam for emphasis. “She’s not some toy you guys are just going to carry around!”  
  
Sam waved Dean’s finger away from his face. “What, and you have another plan?” he asked. “It’ll save us trouble down the road, and all you have to do is brush your fingerprints from the truck.”  
  
Jacob wished he could cringe back from Dean's vehement rejection of the idea. Even with Sam arguing with him, and even the fact that he was the size of Jacob's finger couldn't erase how intensely opposed to it he looked. Dean could glare with the best of them, as Jacob had discovered. If he wasn't cursed to be twenty times his size, he'd be intimidated by it.  
  
As it was, he simply didn't want to create more trouble for them than he'd already done. He sat himself down just within the trees with a sigh and rested his hands on his knees. "I won't carry it if you don't want me to," he promised. "I just thought it'd be a safer idea than trying to move the truck and that way you always know where your car is. Just thought it'd help."  
  
Jacob's eyes wandered back to the truck and the huge trailer attached to it. It was big, but he was bigger. It wouldn’t be much trouble to lift, and carrying it would be cumbersome but possible.  
  
Dean’s lips thinned, and he glanced between Jacob, who’d given in, and Sam, who clearly hadn’t, with a beset look about him. “C’mon, Sam,” he pleaded, “isn’t there another way?”  
  
Sam shrugged. “You can always drop the truck off somewhere else and hike back to us, but that could take half the night. Or find somewhere else to park the Impala, but same problem. You’ve gotta hike back. Jacob can try carrying the truck, but I don’t think we’d want to be in his pockets when he does.”  
  
Dean took a step back, cornered.   
  
There was no other option and he hated it.  
  
“ _Fine,_ ” he growled. “But if she gets stuck in the forest, I’m holding you both responsible!”  
  
Surprised by the turnaround, Jacob looked back down at the bickering hunters, before glancing over at the Impala again. She gleamed in the waning daylight, and Jacob suddenly thought that if the pine trees dropped a single needle on her, Dean would glare at the whole forest for the offense. Jacob didn't want to be the one to cause any harm to that car.  
  
"She won't get stuck," he said, eyes earnest and steady. "I know she's not a toy, she's an actual car. I'm big, but I'm not ..." he tapered off and shrugged. Jacob wasn't sure what he might have said just then. Careless, fumbling, stupid... becoming a giant hadn't made him any of those things.  
  
"I'll just carry it, and then I'll put it right down when we get back and then I won't touch it unless I need to carry it again. Fair?"  
  
Dean glanced up at Jacob, still glaring. “Not a scratch on her,” he warned, already imagining how much work it would be to remove giant fingerprints from the side of his car. By the time the case was over, she was going to need a buff and a tune up, spending all this time parked in the forest and on unsteady ground.  
  
He stalked over to the side of the truck. “Help me unwrap some of this stuff,” he griped at Sam, hauling himself up. Without the docking bay the truck was made for, they had to make do. Fortunately, both brothers were tall enough to get in without a problem.  
  
With the truck being mostly produce, it would be simple enough to get the vegetables and fruits out of the crates so Jacob could eat them. Far better than the individually-wrapped meats that Dean had avoided at the warehouse.  
  
Jacob watched them work with some fascination. Since growing, the only food he'd really had was meat, from whatever animals he could catch. He had run out of trail mix from his supplies very quickly, and the empty wrappings were stuffed at the bottom of his bag.  
  
Now, he was looking at miniature (but not really) fruit. The first bags untied and set at the edge for him were full of apples. Red, green, and yellow, the fruits were like tiny berries to him. Jacob barely covered his palm after dumping a few bags onto it. Less than a mouthful altogether, he lifted his hand to his mouth to eat the pile of fruit.  
  
"Ah, jeez, I almost forgot what apples tasted like," he admitted. They were gone all too soon, and this time he waited patiently for Sam and Dean to work on more. "Thanks again, Dean. Dunno how I can pay you back for this one."  
  
Dean shrugged as he moved on to the next boxes in the truck, using one of his knives to slice through the tape that sealed them shut. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “Didn’t cost me a dime.”  
  
Sam smiled up at Jacob from where he was perched on the edge of the truck bed. “This is what we  _do._  We don’t expect anything in return.”  
  
Dean snorted, kicking a box at Sam before grabbing another for himself. “Hell, half the time the victims run screaming from  _us,_  never mind a thank you. You’re already miles ahead of most people.”  
  
Jacob chuckled and nearly made a comment about how easy it was for him to be miles ahead of anyone. Instead, he reached into the truck to lift some of the opened boxes out to set them on the ground and give the brothers more room to work. Eventually, they'd end up deep enough in the truck that he wouldn't see them without ducking.  
  
"Well, that really sucks," he pointed out in his subdued but still loud voice. Even as he thought about it, the thankless heroics sounded more and more like some kind of comic book story. "Tell you what, Dean, I'll see if I have another quarter to match the first one."  
  
Dean gave Jacob a flat look in return, resolutely ignoring how close those huge fingers had come. He couldn’t figure out if Jacob was teasing him or not about the quarter. “That’s just how things are,” he said sharply. “We make do.”  
  
“The best reward is seeing families put back together,” Sam said honestly. Though he spoke only for himself, he knew the same was true of Dean. His brother would just never admit to it. They did what they did to try and keep others from suffering the way  _they_  had suffered, all the way from childhood. Forced into a life they weren’t prepared for, taught to hunt and fight growing up… it was just the way things were for the Winchesters.  
  
No one else should go through that. It made Sam wish there was a way to put an end to  _all_  the monsters out there that preyed on the unsuspecting, but he knew that would forever be impossible.  
  
So they took it one case at a time, making what difference they could.  
  
Sam shoved the box he’d opened over to the open side in time for Dean to kick him another. “One day at a time, right?” he reasoned.  
  
"Makes sense to me," Jacob agreed amiably. When he'd gathered enough crates outside the truck, he began the task of pouring their contents into his hands so he could eat them. Some of the vegetables tasted beyond bland but passable, but Jacob thanked his luck for every box or bag of fruit he could get his hands on. The sweet tastes came as such a welcome change from the usual fare of the last several weeks. He felt healthier already.  
  
The sun dipped further in the sky and cast a splash of pastel oranges and purples onto the clouds above. At length, Jacob leaned down to peer into the truck. There was enough left in the vehicle for another meal of produce for him, even if he left several days worth for Sam and Dean to claim for themselves.  
  
They might not be thanked by many people, but Jacob would do what he could to pay them back. Even if that simply meant looking out for them out in the woods, Jacob would take on the task. They were out here because of him, so he'd lend a hand wherever he could.  
  
In the meantime, he waited until he could catch their attention. "Hey, guys... it'll be dark soon. Should we get packed up to head back?"  
  
Dean paused in his work and glanced towards the opening of the truck. Past the silhouette of Jacob’s head, the darkening sky could be seen between the leaves that wafted in a breeze. Inside the bowels of the truck, neither brother could feel that breeze from where they worked at the pilfered food.  
  
Pushing away the box he was working on, Dean stood. “Good a time as any,” he agreed. “I’ll grab the rest of the supplies from the cab.”  
  
Sam glanced up from where he was sitting. “What supplies?”  
  
“I went out to grab  _camping_  supplies, didn’t I?” Dean griped in annoyance. “I tried to get what Jacob listed,  _then_  lifted the food truck.” He jabbed a thumb back towards the rest of the crates in the truck. “You think you can handle all that?” he asked Jacob.  
  
Jacob glanced over the crates leftover and nodded. "I'll do my best," he replied. He didn't want to leave the food behind if he could help it after Dean went to the trouble of stealing all of it for him.  
  
He straightened to give the two of them room to climb back out of the truck without him looming too close. If looming felt strange to him, it was probably twice as unsettling for them. Jacob was  _big._  
  
He paused to listen for more cars on the road, and then glanced up at the sky again. So far, no one had spotted him or come tearing around the bend. Just this once, at least, his luck had turned positive for him. The comfortable, full feeling in his gut seemed to agree.  
  
Once Sam and Dean were clear of the truck, Jacob set to the task of gathering up what remained of the packages and crates in his hands. It took some rearranging, but he was able to fit most of it in the spacious pocket on the front of his hoodie.  
  
And then it was the Impala’s turn.  
  
Dean scowled as he grabbed the supplies from the cab of the truck, remembering what they’d agreed on with the Impala. That didn’t make it any easier to contemplate all eighteen proud feet of her held between two hands that could crush the metal with a movement. It was to Jacob’s credit that Dean even considered the possibility.  
  
Sam was rearranging things in the trunk, and grabbing some other supplies. Dean saw a flare gun vanish into the bag Sam had with him for their wilderness stay. A good precautionary measure.  
  
Dean dropped his bags down next to the back door of the Impala with a grunt, and hauled the door open. It was the strangest sight to see the massive quarter in the backseat. The damn thing practically took up a seat of its own, and he shook his head in amazement. He shoved the other supplies in with the cooler, and closed up the back at the same time that Sam slammed the trunk shut.  
  
Knowing he was just buying himself time at that point, Dean stared pointedly up at Jacob. “Not a scratch on her, you hear me?” he echoed severely, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
Jacob, with his pockets full and his senses on alert now that they'd be moving again soon, nodded once. The look on his face was one of reverence and a hope that he wouldn't let Dean down.   
  
It did bring up another question. Jacob couldn't safely carry the brothers in his pocket this time. "I'll be super careful, Dean," he assured him. "Are you guys ... gonna ride in the cab while I'm walking?"  
  
“You bet your ass we are,” Dean growled, swinging his door open with a creak. He paused with one boot on the edge before getting in fully. “Watch the headlights and don’t mess with the mirrors! If there’s one dent in the finish…”  
  
Sam cut Dean off, leaning on the car from the other side. “Dean, dude. She’ll be  _fine._ ”  
  
Dean glared at Sam. “This is all your fault if anything goes wrong,” he snipped back, getting in the car with a huff and slamming the door.  
  
Sam gave Jacob a half-shrug before getting in himself, following suit with Dean as they both rolled down their windows.  
  
Jacob merely stared at the car for a few seconds more. His task was seconds away, and thinking about it more didn't make it any less strange. He was about to carry a classic car over the treetops into the wilderness in the mountains.   
  
He couldn't even say that was the  _weirdest_ thing he'd have to deal with as a giant.  
  
"O-okay," he said by way of warning. Before his hands came close to the car, Jacob shifted so he was kneeling instead, and would be ready to stand up once his hands were occupied. The Impala would probably fit over one hand if he tucked it close to himself, but he doubted Dean would allow such a precarious option.  
  
When he was ready, Jacob reached hesitantly for the car. Suddenly it looked so small, and it contained the only two people in the world who trusted him. He felt like some kind of movie monster, reaching for them in their car like that.  
  
Finally, his hands reached the shining black car, settling in next to each bumper. Working slowly, Jacob slid his fingertips underneath the front and rear of the car to lift it up, while trying not to rock it back and forth too much. He concentrated, and eventually the Impala lifted away from the ground with both of his giant hands cradled underneath.  
  
Jacob's eyes were wide as he stared down at the roof of the car. He paused, and then stood slowly, as carefully as he could. He could only imagine Sam and Dean's faces right now.  
  
"All good?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean knows how to make an entrance.
> 
> He can't be bringing the Impala with him places when he plans on other transportation back!
> 
> Dishonor on _you_ , dishonor on your _cow,_ dishonor on your _whole family_ if anything happens to that precious car!!!!
> 
>  **Next:** August 22nd, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	14. Not a Scratch

With everything else to focus on, Dean barely heard Jacob’s rumbled warning despite the volume of it being so close.   
  
His attention was focused on the huge knees he could see out the window next to him, and then the massive hands as they surrounded the car.  
  
Both brothers had stood safely on those hands before, but it was a completely different thing to realize that Jacob could pick up the Impala herself just as easily. Over two tons of metal, plucked up like a toy. Just like one of those model cars Dean would stare at when he was just a kid, asking his dad if he could get one that looked just like the Impala and being told they didn’t have room in the car to waste on silly toys and games.  
  
Jacob’s hands started to close in and Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He couldn’t see the expression on Jacob’s face, and had to resist the temptation to lean out of the window and glance up. The last thing he wanted to do was break Jacob’s concentration at such a crucial point.  
  
When the hands finally reached the car and Dean felt his baby rock back and forth, he squeezed his eyes shut. Sam, on the other hand, looked fascinated, peering out the back window to see if he could catch a glimpse of Jacob’s other hand.  
  
Sam spotted the look on Dean’s face, and his white-knuckled grip on the wheel. “Why don’t you turn on some Metallica?” he hissed quietly, remembering something Dean had confided in him long ago. A way to calm down.  
  
Dean scrunched his eyes open to respond and immediately wished he hadn’t as, just then, the car lifted off the ground. Jacob was now in complete control.  
  
Letting out a shuddering breath when the disorienting sensation of rising through the air came to a stop, Dean leaned out the window to answer Jacob’s question on how they were holding up. At least the kid was talking to them, taking away some of the oddness of being carried through the air. “How do you think?” he grumbled.  
  
Sam dragged him away from the window and flicked the key in the ignition. Not far enough to turn the engine on while Jacob was handling the car, but enough so that soft rock started to leak from the speakers. “We’re fine!” he called out, unable to see Jacob from his point of view. “If you need a flashlight, we can turn on the headlights!”  
  
That joke was met with a flat look from Dean as he shrugged Sam off. “Not funny! My car is  _not_  a flashlight!”  
  
“Oh, it’s a  _little_  funny,” Sam smirked back.  
  
Jacob tried to rein in his smirk at the banter that filtered up to him. He couldn't see Sam, but he'd been able to hear the cheerful words called out to him in a sharp contrast to Dean's stern reply. In the end, they were still acting like themselves for the most part. Even though they were stuck inside a car that was currently hovering higher than the nearest trees, they weren't completely terrified.  
  
Dean wasn't quite there yet, anyway. He had his gruff attitude to cling to and anchor himself.  
  
"I think I'm good without a flashlight for now," Jacob assured them, before turning back to enter the trees once again. This time he could follow the trail he left when he first walked down, noting broken branches or slicks of mud with distinct giant boot prints in them (which he made sure to brush away).  
  
He couldn't stoop this time lest he risk tilting the car too much in his hands, or worse, brushing her past tree branches and scratching the finish. As nervewracking as it was to constantly walk over the level of the trees, he at least knew there wouldn't be anyone for miles around to spot him. It was just one trip like this.  
  
His steps grew more confident and his strides longer when they were back in familiar territory. The clearing was ahead, and Jacob sighed at the very welcome sight. "Here we go," he announced, his rumbling voice shaking right through the car in his hands.  
  
He reached his temporary home and knelt down carefully. The Impala lowered to the flattest part of the ground opposite his cliff, and he set her down just as gently as he'd lifted her up until she settled on her tires. "There ... everything okay now?"  
  
The doors on either side creaked open. Dean stumbled out while Sam calmly stepped out of the car. If there was no one else watching, Sam had a feeling Dean would pull a move from the cartoons they’d grown up on and kiss the blessedly solid ground.  
  
Sam brushed off his jacket, ignoring Dean’s theatrics while the older hunter found his feet. “I think everything’s in one piece,” he said, glancing up and down the length of the vehicle. “You didn’t jar her once.”  
  
“ _I’ll_  be the judge of that,” Dean said, recovering. He stalked to the front of the car, checking the bumper to make sure Jacob’s huge hands hadn’t dented the metal and scowled when he saw the fingerprints that marred her surface.  
  
Jacob watched Dean's face with some concern. He glanced to Sam's comparative lax demeanor, and then back at Dean, and finally leaned a little closer. He couldn't see any dents in the front of the car that'd cause such a frown. "What happened? Did I break something?" he asked.  
  
Before getting his answer, Jacob sat up straight again to avoid crowding the two of them. If his pockets weren't full, he'd have stuffed his hands in to hide them sheepishly. He was so big that he could have messed up the car somehow and he couldn't even tell. "I didn't think I was holding the car that tight," he admitted, confused and disappointed at the same time.  
  
“Jury’s still out on that,” Dean grumbled as he walked around the front. Leaning over, he tried to run off the fingerprint on the side of the car with the shirt he had on under the leather jacket. Quick work was made of the mark and Dean did a beeline straight for the next smudge.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and wandered to the back to dig out the ‘supplies' Dean had brought back. He was pleased to see a tent and sleeping bags in the plastic bags stuffed in the back, along with food rations just in case they needed them.   
  
“The car’s  _fine,_ ” Sam said dryly as he pulled the bags and the cooler out to start sorting out a campground for them. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be wasting your time on fingerprints.”  
  
Dean straightened enough to send a judgemental glare at Sam across the Impala, and then went right back to work on the smudges.  
  
Sam brought the supplies out a few feet from the car and sat down to start unpacking the tent Dean had brought them. “You have steady hands,” he said to Jacob in an absent tone. “Ignore him.”  
  
Jacob raised his eyebrows and then watched Dean fuss over the car for a few seconds more. So far, no exclamations of real damage were forthcoming, so he let himself side with Sam. He'd leave Dean to his fretting.  
  
He scooted back from the pair, pushing himself past his fire pit and relieving them of having his shadow hanging over their heads in the rapidly-waning daylight. That, at least, gave Jacob a task to focus on for a few minutes.  
  
While Sam worked on the camping supplies (that were small enough that they caught Jacob's curious eye more than once) and Dean worked with the Impala, Jacob picked up some of his reserved firewood for his fire pit, and with his lighter he once again coaxed a flame to life and brought some light back into the clearing that he now shared with two monster hunters.  
  
 _And I thought just being a giant by itself was weird,_  he thought to himself. He fell to watching the two miniature-but-not people work, sitting by his cliff with his knees drawn up. "Looks like I'll get my pillow back tonight," he commented with a faint smile.  
  
“All we had to do was wake Dean up and you would have had your pillow back,” Sam commented offhand as he drove in the stakes with a boot. The tent would fit both brothers with room to spare, though Sam doubted they’d ever sleep at the same time so long as they were on the case.  
  
Dean ignored the comments directed at him to finish inspecting the back of the Impala, going so far as to fall to his knees to peer underneath and make sure the chassis was straight. Unable to find anything wrong with his baby, he pushed himself back to his feet and stalked over to where Sam had the tent spread out, and dug a beer from the cooler.  
  
Spotting the look Sam was giving him, Dean rolled his eyes. “I think I  _earned_  this,” he said defensively. “Carrying my baby around the forest like that…”  
  
Tapering off into mumbles, Dean popped the beer open using his thick silver ring and tossed the bottlecap into the pile of wrapping from the tent before downing half the bottle in one go.  
  
Jacob's smile faded into a neutral expression as he fell into thought. It struck him all of a sudden just how big  _he_  was. The fact came back to him in cycles, reminding him that he was out of place; seeing a little tent and car several feet away from his meager bonfire that'd be able to consume both easily drove the point home.  
  
He should be able to fit inside that tent, but he doubted he'd even be able to get his hand into it now.  
  
He relaxed where he sat to cross his legs and dug into his pockets. Entire  _crates_  of food lifted out in his hands, and he stacked them tidily near his backpack. There would be enough there for him to make a meal of it, so he could avoid the ranch for another day. The fewer visits to places close to people, the better.  
  
Once the hoodie pocket was empty, Jacob shoved his hands into it and leaned back against the cliff. It was an attempt at looking casual that he wasn't entirely sure had the right effect, considering it knocked a boulder loose.  
  
"... You guys have water in that cooler, too, right?" he asked after a moment of hesitation, noting the beer in Dean's hand.  
  
Dean arched an eyebrow up at Jacob. “Who needs water,” he said, almost to himself.  
  
With the tent set up, Sam stood up and wandered over to the cooler, kicking it open. Beer only took up half, and he was glad to see the waters stuffed inside with them. Dean had at least thought ahead when he was out that afternoon. He caught a questioning look from Dean and threw his own glare right back before grabbing himself a beer.  
  
Instead of sitting on the hard ground like Dean, Sam used one of the sleeping bags. He sighed as he sipped at his drink. A long day out in the wilderness with a giant left him tired to the bone, but that could be the tension from sitting in a massive hand for so long. Instincts would never let him relax his guard completely around Jacob.  
  
“Do you just use the lake for water?” Sam asked, realizing that they might have found him a temporary food supply, but they had nothing for him to drink.  
  
Jacob nodded. "Yeah, there's a little one a ways up the hill," he assured them. The lake and the waterfalls throughout the woods provided him with plenty of water, real mountain spring water unlike some of the bottled water advertised. He was glad that he at least never ran out of that, though he did wish that he'd had a canteen in his bag when he grew. Now, if he tried to drink out of a canteen, he'd be more likely to accidentally swallow the whole thing.  
  
"It's a pretty nice place up here," he mused, almost more to himself than to the brothers. Now, his thoughts could have an audience. "Kinda wish I'd had a chance to hike all that without  _having_  to. Though… I guess I can't complain about the immunity to bear attacks."  
  
“Least there’s that,” Sam said, taking another swig. He eyed up the rest of the camping supplies Dean had brought with him, vaguely impressed that he’d been so thorough. “Good thinking with all that,” Sam told Dean, trying to rouse him from his thoughts.  
  
Dean glanced up for a second. “Just got what our resident expert camper said we’d need,” he said, shifting the praise over to Jacob. Holding up his beer, he tipped it at Jacob. “Along with a few improvements. You did good, kid, with the car. Nothing but fingerprints.”  
  
The praise coaxed a smile out of Jacob, brightening his whole face in the evening night. "Yeah? Well, good. Glad those were easy enough to take care of," he replied. Even though he knew very well that the Winchesters were keeping an eye on him and never letting their guard down, and he couldn't blame them, Jacob relished whatever chances he could get to have easy conversation. It took his mind off of things.  
  
He leaned slightly to reach into his jeans pocket. He hadn't kept much in it since growing, but his fingertips found what he was aiming for at the bottom, and drew out another giant coin like the quarter in the Impala's backseat.  
  
"Here, since you liked that quarter so much, you can have this," he suggested, lowering his hand to offer Dean a dime bigger than a serving plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's collection grows...
> 
> **Next:** August 26th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	15. Spells and Counterspells

Dean took the dime from Jacob’s outstretched fingers, enthralled at the sight of such a large coin. The shiny metal glittered in the firelight and reflected to light up the shadows on Dean’s face. He brushed a hand over the edge, feeling how prominent the ridges were on the side of the dime compared to what he would feel at its regular size. A coin that should be the size of his fingertip now had a decent heft in his hands, and all of the writing on it might as well be sized for a poster.  
  
Sam had to hide a smile at how fascinated Dean was at the size difference. It was like nothing they’d ever seen before, and not purposely harmful like most of their cases would be. Whatever was causing Jacob’s gigantism hadn't changed what he was like as a person, at least.  
  
Dean took the cuff of his sleeve and rubbed at the metal of the dime to see if he could make out his reflection in the metal.  
  
Jacob kept fascinated watch over Dean's actions. With the coin in his hands, he looked small again, rather than Jacob looking bigger than normal. The dime glinted orange and silver while Dean turned it this way and that to look it over. Jacob could barely see the tiny fingers gripping the edge.  
  
There wasn’t enough room in the clearing for Jacob to lie flat on the ground to put himself on the brothers’ level, but he managed to lean in without crowding their space too much and without leaning himself into the flickering bonfire.  
  
Jacob hadn't had many chances to admit it to himself, but he was fascinated by the size difference, too. He had shot up in height so much that leaves and pine needles were specks to him, and cars were like models. People were  _pocketable._  He reached out with a hesitant, curious hand and nudged at Dean's elbow. He could still feel the texture of the leather and the creases where Dean bent his arm, but in miniature.  
  
Dean shifted where he sat at the touch, and glanced to the side at his arm. His eyebrows went up at the sight of the huge fingertip brushing against his elbow, able to see every crease of Jacob’s fingerprint without a problem. The fingernail would so thick even a knife would have a hard time cutting in, yet Dean didn’t feel worried at all. He merely shifted away, shrugging the finger off in favor of the dime.  
  
Over to the side, out of the way of the other two, Sam kept quiet and watched the strange interaction between the other two with a fascinated gleam in his eyes. Dean calmly sitting there with a huge hand hovering over him, more focused on a metal disc in his hand than the giant that could snatch him up.  
  
It was certainly a night to remember.  
  
Surreptitiously, Sam took out his cell phone and powered it up just long enough to snap a picture of the pair, noting briefly the lack of any bars. He grinned at the sight of Dean overshadowed by fingers longer than he was tall, ignoring the ‘threat’ that was close by. Blackmail pictures. Bobby would  _love_  to see them.  
  
Not a second later, Jacob's hand drew back slowly. There was a bemused look on his face, but inwardly he felt pride swelling in his chest. He had managed an interaction without so much as a flinch from Dean, and the look his hand got was hardly wary. The hunter had looked more annoyed than anything, and merely brushed it off.  
  
The less fear they showed him, the more normal he felt. It was like taking a step closer to home.  
  
"Will one of you be going into town again tomorrow?" he asked curiously. Now that they had supplies, they didn't need to head back to civilization, but he had no idea what other resources they'd need to help figure out his problem.  
  
Sam thought about it. They were off in the forest, and that separated them from any ability to research or connect to an internet signal with the laptop. Or even call Bobby without hiking back to town. “Probably,” he predicted. “This isn’t something we’re fixing without research.”  
  
He jabbed Dean with an elbow, getting his older brother to glance up from the dime with a scowl. “Hey, did you call Bobby while you were out today?”  
  
Dean nodded, stashing the dime in his duffel nearby. This coin was small enough to fit in the bag without sticking out like the quarter, and Dean closed the bag up. “He said he’d look into it. He’s checkin’ up on anything that went ‘fee, fie, fo, fum’ in the last few millennia. Said he never  _heard_  of something that turns a person into a giant, but we all know that means nothing. There’s legends of giants going all the way back to the biblical times with David and Goliath.”  
  
Jacob winced slightly at the mention of the old biblical story. Hopefully this whole fiasco wouldn't end with him taking a rock to the head. Thinking of all the various giant legends and fairy tales, he couldn't think of a single one that didn't end with the giant somehow biting the dust. In all the stories, giants were big, dumb brutes, bent on smashing everything and eating people.  
  
"Well, all those stories say I should be going on a rampage or something right now, right?" he said with plenty of hope in his voice. "Haven't had any urges to go and wreck things, so, so far so good." With him leaning down, the firelight illuminated the optimistic expression on his face. He couldn't help but hope that the answer was easy to find, at least for people who could fit in the library.  
  
Sam winced. “For all we know, those giants back in the old days  _didn’t_  go on rampages,” he admitted. “If people were scared, they might have lashed out. The giant’s might have just been protecting themselves.”  
  
He tossed his empty beer to the side, in the pile of wrapping from the tent they’d set up, and then stood to get another. Dean held out a hand and Sam tossed him a second without missing a beat. “The good news is if it’s a spell, there’s usually a counter. You didn’t get bit by anything, no attack, it’s unlikely there was a poison if your friends weren’t affected-- and I’m  _sure_  we would have heard if there was  _another_  giant on the prowl. Which leaves spells, curses and hexes.”  
  
Dean shuddered as he popped open his second beer. “Hexes. Just reminds me of witches. I hate those skeevy bitches. Always with the animal entrails and spewing their bodily fluids everywhere.”  
  
That brought a frown of disgust to Jacob's face, and he pursed his lips.  _Dude. Gross._  He'd heard a little from Sam during the day about the kinds of things the brothers had to chase. If Jacob was to believe them, and he had no reason not to, they dug up and burned corpses fairly regularly. Good cause or not, Sam and Dean Winchester were familiar with the smell of a burning corpse.  
  
"I definitely haven't seen or heard signs of anyone else becoming a giant," he said, sitting up straight. It was easy to think  _why me?_  
  
"What could someone have to gain from turning someone into a giant? Wouldn't it make more sense to make themselves big instead? Otherwise this has gotta be the weirdest way to put a hit on someone, but I don't have any enemies that I know of."  
  
Sam paced back and forth between their tent and the bonfire, unable to contain his anxious energy. “Well maybe it’s not  _about_  that,” he said as his quick strides brought him close to Jacob then away. “You’re just thinking about the effect it has on you, but maybe they were going for bigger.  
  
“All these giant tales we hear about in legends have them going on rampages, so maybe the person that cast the spell wanted you to do the same thing. Lash out at everyone around, go on a rampage through the town. There’s no way the local P.D. could stop you in time to prevent a catastrophe, and they might even get laughed off if they send out a call for help. It could be some kind of revenge thing.”  
  
“Or a test to see if the spell even works,” Dean interrupted.  
  
Sam nodded. “Out here in the woods, there’s less interference to stop experiments. Someone could hole up and never be found if they really knew their stuff.”  
  
“But why did they go through all that effort just to leave Jacob chillin’ by a cliff?” Dean asked in confusion, taking a drink from his beer. “Wouldn’t they know he didn’t rampage through the campsites?”  
  
Sam shrugged, but his pacing didn’t slow down any. “Could be they don’t know yet. If  _you_  unleashed what’s supposed to be a ‘man-eating giant,’ would  _you_  stick around?”  
  
Jacob fidgeted as he thought about the possibilities, uncomfortable with the ideas. If he had gone berserk on the campsite and then wandered into town, he really  _would_ have been unstoppable by the local forces. There were park rangers and cops with guns, but Dean and Sam had shown just how effective guns could be on Jacob. He didn't like the sting, but he could look past it to accomplish a goal easily.  
  
Jacob watched Sam pace back and forth without any care for how close he came to him. The hunter was fully on track thinking about the case in front of him. His face might be small and hard to see, but it had a certain focus on it that even Jacob couldn't ignore.  
  
"So ... they might come back at some point," he surmised. "Checking to see if their curse worked like they wanted it to." If Sam was right, then the person doing experiments out here would need to see their result eventually. "Guess they forgot the part where most people wouldn't just start eating people just because they got big all of a sudden."  
  
Jacob's first thoughts had been a kaleidoscope of confusion. And then, when he saw how big he'd become and the way everyone panicked and stumbled over each other to run away, he'd felt a panic of his own. Attempts to lift his hands in a gesture of no ill will had only incited more scurrying.  
  
Jacob was a fast learner. He hadn't tried to reach out for any help since then, and hadn't had any hope of getting it until Sam and Dean decided to listen instead of shoot at him.  
  
“Maybe…” Sam’s rant wasn’t over yet. “Maybe you were supposed to. Something mighta gone wrong when they hit you with the spell, and it backfired. You just got big instead of going on a rampage, King Kong style.”  
  
“Slow down there, Sasquatch.” Dean caught Sam on his next loop, dragging him down and making him fall back onto his sleeping bag seat. “You might want to try saving some of that energy for  _actual_  research tomorrow. You’ll have to give Bobby a call and see what he thinks.”  
  
“Right…” Sam’s lips didn’t stop moving, and he dove for his bag to dig out a notepad to start writing in. “Gotta figure this out…”  
  
“If the person comes back, we’ll be ready for him,” Dean said, tilting his head up at Jacob once he was certain Sam was down for the count, lost to the world with the ideas spinning in his head.  
  
Jacob smiled faintly and nodded. He had a feeling  _ready_  was hardwired into the brothers. They might not have come to the woods with the right camping supplies, but they packed plenty of weapons. They were ready to fight, take care of the 'monster,' and get out.  
  
Now, they were prepared to help the monster instead. "Thanks, guys," Jacob told them as he leaned back against the cliff once more. With Sam lost in his own thoughts, and Dean watching them both, Jacob's gaze wandered to his little fire. It would be a blaze worth an entire house, if he were at the right scale. "We'll get him before he messes with anyone else."  
  
Dean bobbed his head and leaned back, staring into the flickering flames that lapped up the firewood Jacob was using. Firewood that was actually entire trees. Dean had to assume they used to be in the clearing before Jacob had come and uprooted them in his attempt to make a campground to stay in.  
  
They sat like that for an indeterminate amount of time, Sam scribbling away to the side while Dean and Jacob took advantage of some peace and quiet. Eventually, Sam glanced up. “I’ll take first watch,” he offered.  
  
Dean thought about it, then tossed back the rest of his beer. “Wake me in four hours,” he said as he tossed the beer into the pile of trash they’d acquired, then stooped to gather up that pile and shove it in the trunk. He grabbed the second sleeping bag that Sam had left on its own, and collapsed in the tent, out cold in seconds. After hunting for so long, they’d both learned how to sleep when they could, and be fully awake in seconds if they heard a threat.  
  
The rustling of the tent died out and the clearing fell silent again save for the crackling of the fire. Jacob had to wonder if the flames roared in Sam's ears while they simply hissed merrily to Jacob. Once again, he couldn't help but think about the differences between them. There was no covering up the real reason Sam and Dean needed to take watch in shifts.  
  
Jacob certainly wouldn't be getting his own turn.  
  
He shoved the thoughts aside and hid a yawn in the crook of an arm. "I might get some sleep soon, myself," he announced. "Lemme know if you want me to kill some of the flames or something ... I'd probably hear if you yelled at me."  
  
Sam waved him off, more intent on the notebook in front of him. “We’ll let you know.” He spared a quick glance at the flames that rose into the sky. “At least it’s good light for writing.”  
  
There was no sound from the tent at all, so Dean must either be fast asleep, or just staring at the ceiling. Sam shifted enough to pull the sleeping bag out from under him, spreading it out over the hard ground to have a place to stretch out. There was a crick in his back and he figured he might as well take advantage of the supplies Dean had procured for them. “Least you get a pillow this time, right?”  
  
"Yep," Jacob agreed. He shifted where he sat to push his backpack out of the way, causing it to brush against his pile of metal from the traps with a clang. He spared Sam and the tent a glance before resuming the process of setting up his pillow at the base of the cliff. It wasn't much, barely more than a neck pillow, but it had served him well. The brothers had certainly seemed to approve.  
  
"This thing has been the only thing keeping me from completely jacking up my neck these last few weeks," Jacob pointed out absently. It was almost strange to have someone to say anything to, after long enough without. He fluffed the meager cushion up before finally lying down. The ground trembled from his movements until he lay on his side, facing the cliff wall.  
  
There, he could watch the shadows flicker against the rocky cliff face. Worn down by wind, it was the only semblance of shelter he had out here. Jacob once again tried to make himself smaller, and also tried to dwell on the optimistic thoughts from the day rather than the grim knowledge that he needed to have a watch on him, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not only are they getting to know each other a little better, they're also starting to really delve into possibilities on what might have turned Jacob into a giant.
> 
> **Next:** August 29th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	16. Barflies

The local bar saw many colorful folk passing through. In a town with a nearby tourist destination, it could be hard to distinguish a regular from someone only there for the weekend. Vincent, at least, had the distinct look of someone who belonged on the road. Other smiling, happy drifters kept to their tables and groups or chatted with other tourists, but something about Vincent's scruffy look and tired eyes set up a wall around him.  
  
That worked in his favor. Odd rumors had drawn him in, and sitting down at a bar to play the role of weary traveler gave him a chance to overhear all kinds of things. The barkeep brought him his drinks and he tipped her without a smile, a respectful sign of  _not looking for a chat._  
  
Most people were talking about the camping, the fishing, the shopping available. Proud rock climbers reveled in their successful exploits and a cross-country bicycling group lamented that they weren't even halfway to New York yet. One local jogger, though, had been trying for most of the night to get her friends onto the topic of the weird attack on the campground weeks ago. No one wanted to humor her, and she ended up pouting in their booth while her friends laughed and chatted.  
  
Vincent had met many people in his lifetime just trying to process what the hell they'd seen and coming up with nothing. He had a good sense for when he'd spotted a witness, so when the jogger's friends left to find another place to continue their revelry, he ordered an extra beer and had the barkeep take it over to the gloomy girl along with a message.  
  
If she wanted to talk, he would listen, but Vincent had a feeling that walking over there himself first would end badly. Didn't want to get kicked out for freaking out another customer.  
  
Serenity glanced up, her expression morose where she was sitting on her own. The last thing she’d expected was the bartender to bring her over a new drink, but it was left on the table along with a folded slip of paper. She uncrossed her arms, hesitantly picking up between two slim fingers.  
  
Her lips moved slightly as she read, and one threaded eyebrow lifted. She glanced up, meeting the gaze of the man sitting at the bar. Her cheeks burned, and her eyes dropped away from him, but she found her legs moving as though under their own command.  
  
_What am I even doing?_  her mind demanded of her, and she had no answer. Before this night, she’d never normally leave her tight knit group of friends, but they didn’t want to listen to what she said, and so here she was.  
  
She settled down on one of the stools next to the stranger, placing down her new beer with a distinct  _thunk_. “H-hi,” Serenity said, then her mind caught up to her. “I mean, thanks. I guess. For the drink.”  
  
Vincent shrugged. "Looked like you had a lot on your mind. Takes the edge off." He spoke casually, but inwardly he celebrated that it had actually worked. So far, he hadn't gotten much from the local papers about what was going on here, and he had a feeling he would have to get his accounts entirely from flustered witnesses.  _That_ was easier said than done.  
  
"Heard you mentioning that attack on the campground a few weeks back. Were you there for that?" he asked, glancing aside. He wore casual curiosity like a shroud, just a roadtripper passing by and collecting rumors. A good half of hunting was acting the least suspicious that one could, and Vincent had practiced that well.  
  
“Oh, no,” Serenity demurred, her eyes falling to the beer to stare at the froth that was beginning to dissipate from the top. She absently trailed a finger over the lip of the mug before taking a sip. “I don’t come here to camp. I just like to jog in the summers. The scenery is amazing, and the air is so clean.”  
  
Talk of the state park brought her mind back to what was bothering her so much, and she bent over her drink again. It might dampen the fear she felt bubbling deep in her. An evening jog had taken an unexpected turn for her, and no one wanted to believe her. They just called her crazy or high or both.  
  
“D-do you believe the stories?” she asked the man hesitantly. “About… what happened, that night?”  
  
Vincent gave her a discerning look, as if trying to figure out what he'd already guessed about her. She had seen something but she didn't want to be shot down by a complete stranger as crazy.   
  
"Well, I only heard a bunch of rumors," he answered, taking a swig of his own drink.  
  
Leaning down with a quick glance around the room, he spoke in more of a conspiratorial hush than before, his gaze fixed on her. "The only thing that the papers will say is it was some kinda bear. But, between you and me, sister, ain't no bear can take off with a whole teenager and leave no remains like that. Had to be something bigger'n a bear, right?"  
  
“Ooh…” She trailed off, her memories of earlier that night flooding back. “I think whatever took that camper could eat bears for  _breakfast._ ” Two hands, closing around a car. A huge giant, shaking the ground under her legs as they turned to jelly. She had only just been able to keep her balance there, holding back a scream for fear that he’d come for  _her_  next.  
  
“I saw it,” her words tumbled over each other in a whispered rush to get it off her chest, “it took an entire  _car,_  and there was a truck… I didn’t see a  _driver_  for the truck, I think it took him too!”  
  
Vincent narrowed his eyes. The beast couldn't be content wandering around the woods waiting for someone to happen into its territory, so it had apparently taken to grabbing cars off the road. People inside would be helpless, just waiting to be dug out and eaten by the monster.  
  
He glanced around the bar quickly to make sure no one else was privy to their conversation before taking a bracing gulp of his beer. "What exactly did you see? Where was this thing, is the town in danger?"  
  
“Oh, I dunno…” Serenity’s eyes fell down to the counter, and she stared at a whorl in the wood. “I was pretty far out.” Her lips pursed. “There’s a back road that goes through the old campgrounds. They’ve been talking about reopening them sometime soon, since it’s such a popular place to stay, but for now it’s nice and secluded. There’s a few old lots where you might see hikers park, but for the most part even the rangers avoid the area.”  
  
Then the size of the giant came back to her. “It was big enough to pick up the car like a toy, and was gone in a few steps, with no one left behind. The  _ground_  shook when it took a step!” Serenity’s eyes were wide, and she had to take a drink of her beer. After what she’d seen, she needed all she could get. “I won’t be jogging back there again, I can tell you that.”  
  
Vincent raised his eyebrows and gave a nod of agreement, an exasperated sort of look that said he agreed completely with her logic. "Yep, good idea." Civilians like her shouldn't be wandering closer to a monster like that, especially if it was taking off with cars. The poor truck driver probably wouldn't be noticed as missing for a few days, but by then, Vincent aimed to make sure no more victims were claimed.  
  
He'd do what he had to to kill the monster and make sure no more were around.  
  
"Listen, I'm sure so long as you stay away from that area, you'll be fine," he said, switching over to a more sympathetic mode as he wrapped up their talk. He'd gotten what he was after; all it would take was a search for the old campgrounds and he'd probably find that truck and a trail. "You got really lucky, right? That's a good thing. Might as well celebrate."  
  
“I guess…” She picked up her glass. “Maybe just a few more. I think I know some other places to go jogging… a little closer to home.” She shuddered as she sipped at the remains of the golden liquid, memories of that huge giant picking up an entire car flashing before her eyes. It was lucky that her scream had choked up in her throat.  _She_  could have been its next victim.  
  


* * *

  
Like the morning before, Jacob woke more optimistic than when he'd fallen asleep. This time, there were even more signs of the Winchester brothers' cohabitation in his clearing, with their little tent and that shining black Impala settled opposite him. The distance was like a wide field to them, though Jacob would merely have to lean over to reach that side.  
  
With his traps taken care of, the plan for the day on Jacob's end was very simple. He would wait in the clearing until later while Sam went into town to do some research and call their friend, Bobby Singer. Jacob still had a lot of the produce left for his daily meal, so he really did have an inactive day ahead for once.  
  
Of course, Dean didn't seem to like the idea of Jacob carrying the Impala yet again, but Sam needed a way back into town. They would go and get him, car and all, later. Until then, Dean was stuck with guard duty. When they returned to the clearing, Jacob sat in his alcove by the cliff and let Dean on the ground to wander or pace or whatever it was he wanted to do.  
  
Without a solid goal in front of him, Dean was restless. There they found themselves once the day had progressed several hours, with Jacob hardly having moved except to occasionally stretch. "What time did he say we should go and meet him?" he asked, taking the chance to interrupt Dean's pacing.  
  
Dean paused, glancing over his shoulder at Jacob in annoyance at the interruption in his brooding. Pacing the circumference of the campsite by the cliff gave him a way to work off his nervous energy from watching Jacob all day, along with having Sam out with the Impala. Dean had no way to keep in contact with Sam while he was out.  
  
Checking his watch, Dean scowled. “He said five, back at that same clearing again so we can find him. He’s hoping to get some material from the library, that way we can all pitch in with the research while we’re cooped up in the middle of his damn forest.” He kicked a rock in his annoyance and watched it roll down the hill to join other rocks in a haphazard pile. He already knew that Jacob wouldn’t be joining in the research, but Dean was torn as to whether he preferred the monotony of staring at the trees to the monotony of sitting around and staring at books.  
  
Jacob nodded, though he had similar thoughts to Dean, knowing he wouldn't be able to do his fair share of reading. There was no way he could, not with books the size of a fingertip. He'd have a hard time seeing the individual lines on the pages, let alone letters and words.  
  
He'd be stuck watching Sam and Dean help him while he was utterly useless to them. Again.  
  
He wasn't even sure how close five o'clock was. Of all his wilderness skills, reading the sun wasn't really one of them, because he'd never really needed that. "You said he'd call your buddy, too," he recalled. "You ... he's not gonna tell other hunters about me, right? He'd give me a chance, too?"  
  
Dean shook his head a negative. “Bobby’s got ‘paranoid recluse’ down to a science. If we can count on anyone, it’s him. He’s hunted since before we were born, and he knows what he’s doing better than anyone else we know. The day Bobby mouths off to someone who doesn’t need to know is the day I retire and go into pole dancing.”  
  
He resumed stalking around the outskirts of the clearing, pausing only briefly to look at the remainder of Jacob’s firewood-- a collection of the trees that the teenager had ripped up to create the clearing for himself in the first place. Older, dry trees, that burnt quicker than any green sapling.  
  
“If there’s a cure for this out there, we’ll find it,” Dean reaffirmed with determination, hating the fact that he was currently  _useless_  while he was waiting out in the forest with Jacob. “We don’t hunt  _kids_ , and neither does Bobby.”  
  
Jacob chuckled quietly, reassured by the words as much as he was worried by the ominous  _what if_  hanging over their heads. What if they didn't find a cure? What if Jacob did snap like they worried he might, or got found out and had to lash out to defend himself?  
  
_At least I should be 18 soon so they won't have to worry about hunting a kid anymore,_  he thought grimly. He'd rather let them deal with him than become something he'd regret.  
  
He stretched his arms out in front of himself, casting long, twin shadows over the clearing, before settling his hands on his knees. He hadn't stood up for hours and his back protested it. "If I get out of this, I'll figure out a way to pay you guys back," he promised.  
  
Dean stopped, watching Jacob’s arms soar up into the air with more curiosity than wariness. Just stretching out from his seat on the ground, Jacob was bigger than most buildings in town. They’d have a hard time finding a place for him to blend in away from the trees, especially with that green hoodie. Hell, their motel would likely only come to Jacob’s knees. “You’ve got enough on your mind. Don’t worry about it. Trust me, if we all get through this with our hides intact, you can have a beer on us. We could  _all_  use one.”  
  
He sat with a huff next to the tent Sam had set up the night before. One of the sleeping bags was still left outside, used by both brothers during their nightly watch. “Only a half hour to go,” Dean groused. “Never knew camping was so dull.”  
  
That got a laugh out of Jacob, though he made sure to keep his volume down. A few birds from nearby trees took flight with offended squawks from the noise. "Depending on what you're up to, it's not really supposed to be that exciting," he admitted. Fishing, hiking, even just sitting around and enjoying nature were all meant to be relaxing hobbies for the people that came out to a place like this.  
  
"I mean, normally, yeah, I'd be doing a little more walking around than this," he continued absently, glancing aside at the trees. Usually, hiking and being outside in general were his favorite things; he doubted even this ordeal would completely erase that. "Don't wanna startle any helicopter pilots or something."  
  
Dean looked up at the sky, scanning the blue expanse. “Right…” he said slowly in realization. “Can’t have that.”  
  
If Jacob was spotted by a helicopter, it would only be so long before he was on the nightly news. The police would be dispatched to investigate, along with more helicopters. And if it was decided that he was a threat, they could bring bigger guns. Bigger guns might lead to Jacob lashing out in self-defense, and things could only escalate from there.  
  
To avoid those thoughts, Dean tried to nudge the conversation back to safer territory. “Me an’ Sam don’t camp much. Our last time we had to babysit some campers while hunting for a wendigo. Managed to track it back to its lair,” Dean left out the part where he’d found the lair by being captured by the wendigo, “and found their missing brother.”  
  
Jacob tried to remember everything he'd managed to learn from Sam the day before. Wendigo sounded familiar. One bad dude, from the sound of things. Hearing about the other monsters that could be found lurking out there helped to take his mind off of his own potential for being a monster, so he allowed himself to be fascinated.  
  
"Nice," he said with a grin. "Good work. Y'know, it's kinda crazy how much stuff there is out there. Sam was telling me about some of it, and how much you guys have had to fight. It's pretty badass, the worst  _I've_  ever dealt with was a raccoon trying to sneak into my tent," he mused. "Aside from this, I mean."  
  
“May that soon be all you have to worry about,” Dean wished, toasting the water bottle that was sitting next to the sleeping bag. He tossed back the last gulp in it, and tossed it into the tent. Sam would bitch, but he’d bitch just as much if Dean left the bottle on the ground outside.  
  
_Damned if I do, damned if I don’t._  
  
Dean stood and stretched. “It’s almost time to meet back up with Sam, anyway,” he said. “We don’t want to be late to the party.” He wasn’t thrilled to be signing up for Jacob to carry him again, but his baby would be waiting. And it wasn’t  _too_  bad, being carried. Much better than the first time Jacob had snatched them up and stuck them in trees. Knowing the giant holding him wasn’t out to eat or catch him went a long way in feeling secure in those hands.  
  
"Alright," Jacob muttered in reply. He lowered his hands for Dean to climb on without a second thought. It was a stark contrast to his first conversation with Sam and Dean. Then, he'd been afraid to lower his hands at all for fear that Dean would open fire with his sawed-off shotgun and take out Jacob's eyes.  
  
Now, with promises of help from both of them, Jacob trusted them not to attack him. He was glad that he had enough trust in return for Dean to walk onto his palms, and he waited patiently for the hunter to get himself settled. He didn't want to lose that trust when it was one of the rarest things he'd have while he was this size.  
  
When he rose to his full height, he curled his fingers like he always did when he carried them. They acted as a railing, some extra security for his little passengers as he walked. Jacob didn't like his odds of catching them if they tumbled over the side, so he didn't even risk it. "Here we go," he announced, before leaving his safe clearing once more.  
  
Dean knelt down, preferring to find as much stability as he could on the huge hand as Jacob traversed the forest. His eyes scanned the treeline, watching for any threats by second nature as they walked along. Deciding that was pointless, considering all that could be found by the tops of trees was birds and a few squirrels that scolded the giant as he passed by, Dean inched his way forward on Jacob’s hand until he could see over the curled fingers.  
  
Placing a hand on a fingertip, Dean watched the ground pass by below them. His face turned to ash at the sight, but he grit his teeth. From here, he could see if there were any people around, a far more useful position to be lookout from compared to in a pocket, and so he forced himself to stay from sheer stubborn determination.  
  
The walk through the state park was as peaceful as the others had been, and that had Dean on edge more than anything else. Aside from their misunderstanding at the beginning of the case after first tracking Jacob down, things were going too smoothly for his comfort. Nothing, in his life or Sam’s, was ever this easy. Jacob was the most mellow giant ever, they had a decent plan on how to keep him fed while they did research, and even traveling through the forest on giant hands was turning into a regular thing.  
  
Jacob reached the clearing with the abandoned food truck without a problem, and Dean gestured him to wait among the trees. There was no use taking the risk of Jacob being spotted while they waited for Sam to drive up. Dean’s ears were tuned for the familiar purr of his baby to come charging down the road, though he had to ignore the loud gusts behind him from Jacob’s constant breathing.  
  
Ten minutes later, and at 5 o’clock on the dot, Dean perked up at the sound of an engine on the road. A black and chrome shadow could be seen between the trees that separated the abandoned lot from the road, and then the Impala was taking the turn. Dean bounded to his feet, then stopped in his tracks.  
  
The Impala’s high beams flashed a familiar warning Dean had come up with years back when he first inherited the car, a way for them to communicate if they had nothing else.  
  
“Sam’s being tailed,” Dean warned. “You need to duck down and stay out of sight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's got something stuck to his shoe... and it's not gum
> 
>  **Next:** September 2nd, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	17. Hunter Vs Hunter

Jacob's first thought was that 'out of sight' was a difficult order for him to follow. His bulk and his height had forced him up a mountain just to avoid accidentally being spotted by someone, anyone, and even that wasn't a guarantee. His arms were thicker than many of the trees around him.  
  
Even so, he ducked down. Dean took advantage of his lower height to hop off from his hand, instantly going to a crouch to creep towards the edge of the clearing. As the little hunter approached the bushes, Jacob braced his hands on the ground so he could push himself farther back among those trees. His hoodie at least offered him a little bit of camouflage, but it wasn't much. In the end, he had to hope that the trees between him and the clearing would be enough to distract whoever was following Sam long enough for the Winchesters to convince them to leave.  
  
He was hunkered down as much as he could be without lying down; that, he couldn't do, as there wasn't enough room to stretch out. Leaves and twigs skittered along the ground from his breaths, and Jacob covered his mouth to try to quiet the sound of the gusts.  
  
He'd made it just in time for the Impala to pull into a parking space and for another car to make the same turn. It was a beat up grey truck, and Jacob noticed with a growing worry that it parked near the entrance to the parking area, giving the most distance between its driver and the Impala that it could.  
  
Hiding next to a tall tree, Dean could just barely see beyond it into the parking lot. He crouched down, every nerve on edge and ready to jump into action if Sam was in danger. Distantly, there was the dampened sound of Jacob’s breathing, but if the stranger didn’t know what it was, they might mistake it for the wind or an errant breeze.  
  


* * *

  
After alerting Dean to his tail, Sam parked the Impala. Whoever the person driving that truck was, he didn’t want to risk a confrontation in public, so he’d come to where he knew he’d have backup. Dean was out there in the woods watching, and hopefully Jacob was hidden.  
  
Checking to make sure his handgun was tucked away in his pants, Sam got out of the Impala and slammed the door shut. He didn’t let his eyes stray over the trees, wondering where Jacob was. That would be as big a giveaway as anything.  
  
Based on the look of that battered truck, parked so it blocked the entrance of the lot, it wasn’t law enforcement out to investigate the missing semi.  
  
 _How do I always end up dealing with Dean’s decisions?_  Sam wondered to himself as he crossed his arms over his chest. Standing at 6’4” tall, he cut an intimidating figure even without a weapon in his hands.  
  
Vincent watched Sam for a second more before sighing and bracing himself for the conversation to come. There wasn't much to the decision; he  _had_  to figure out what this guy was up to. Vincent had missed out on some lore books at the library because this guy checked them all out first. Then, as he watched him leave, he noticed something very suspicious in that sleek black classic car.  
  
It was hard to miss a quarter the width of a hula hoop sitting on the backseat, obvious as ever.  
  
There was a gun tucked into his jacket, but he was beginning to think that maybe he didn't need to worry so much about the guy. He must be another hunter, here looking for the same quarry that Vincent was; he even led him right to the spot that jogger chick had mentioned. The abandoned food truck waited for a driver that wouldn't come back because some monster ate him.  
  
Climbing out of the truck, Vincent’s boots crunched in the gravel as he stepped around to the front. Once he was in sight, he put his hands up in a placating gesture but fixed Sam with the distrusting leer that most hunters knew. He was wise enough to leave plenty of distance between them.  
  
"You sure you're ready for a hike, there?" he asked, and his voice echoed off the trees around them.  
  
Sam stared unflinchingly back at the intruder in their clearing, keeping his back straight and his shoulders squared. While Vincent was willing to relax his guard with another hunter nearby, Sam knew better than to do any such thing. Memories of their last encounter with Gordon were fresh in mind. The man was willing to slice Sam open to prove a point against a vampire who claimed to not drink humans, and now here they were. Another ‘monster’ who wasn’t very monstrous, and a hunter on his tail. No one else, aside from the authorities, would have any interest in following Sam out here.  
  
“I think I can handle a little hike,” Sam said smoothly, taking a step closer to the other man. He exuded confidence, knowing Dean was out there, hidden. His hazel eyes scanned the grey truck to confirm that Vincent was indeed alone. “What brings you out here? I don’t remember seeing any campgrounds close by.”  
  
"Actually," Vincent replied with a dry chuckle. "Heard from the locals there used to be some up here, but you're right. Not why I'm here." He bristled as Sam moved closer. It wasn't yet the time to be riled, so he had to play his cards right. Lots of hunters got possessive of their cases. It was just part of the job.  
  
This was a  _giant,_  though.  
  
"Couldn't help but notice your big coin in that car, there," he said, gesturing towards the Impala. Hidden in the trees, Jacob winced to himself; at least Vincent didn't yet think he might be so near.  
  
"That thing's bigger'n Dallas, friend. And I noticed the theme in the books you were after. Makes me think you mighta heard the rumors going around."  
  
Sam scoffed. “Rumors are one thing, reality’s another.” His mind raced for a way to scare this other guy away before Jacob was spotted. Now that he was standing out in the forest, adjusting to the sounds around them, he could hear the distinct sound of gusts of wind being pulled into massive lungs. It was stifled, but there. There must not have been enough time between Sam’s warning and the hunter’s arrival for Jacob to make himself scarce.  
  
As scarce as a giant would ever get.  
  
Leaning against the trunk of the Impala with casual grace, Sam kicked one of his boots across the other, mimicking Dean’s unique style of abrasive behavior. “You really think you can handle what’s out in the woods?” he asked disparagingly. “You should just turn around and leave this one to the big kids.”  
  
Vincent's eyebrows shot up and a flash of indignant pride shot across his face before he rolled his eyes to divert it. 'Big kids' indeed. This guy might be taller than him by several inches, but he wasn't any  _older_. Vincent's first rodeo was a while ago, that was for damn sure.  
  
"And you think you got this all figured out, by yourself?" he shot back, maintaining his stance now that they were actually getting somewhere. No need to dance around the issue anymore.  
  
"Whatever's out there has already taken at least two people. I got a witness in town saw it grab a car right off the road, who knows how many folks were stuck in there. You think it's a good idea to go alone?"  
  
Sam let a confident grin stray across his face, remaining completely in character with the moment. The other hunter was offering to work together. Sam doubted that this stranger would understand why they were working  _with_  the giant.  
  
“Oh, that’s cute,” Sam sassed right back, practically spitting on the offer in the hopes it would push the other hunter into leaving. “You think I’m out here all by myself. Only fools would come on a hunt like this on their own.”  
  
Right on cue, Dean strolled out of the shadow of the trees, his sawed-off shotgun hanging casually from one hand while the other was draped over his duffel bag. “Hey there, Sammy,” he drawled, “this guy givin’ you some trouble?”  
  
“I think I’ve got it under control,” Sam called back, his eyes never leaving Vincent. It was jarring to realize that for the first time since finding him, the brothers had just left Jacob on his own. Good thing the teenager clearly wanted their help to get back to normal. That must be why Dean had separated from him. Dean rarely let anyone else have his trust, and for him to give it to Jacob meant a lot.  
  
Vincent's eyes narrowed slightly and he watched Dean join Sam by their car. The sudden, casual appearance of another hunter from the woods brought all his guards back up. Any attempt to look relaxed and easygoing was gone, to prevent someone else sneaking up on him.  
  
His gaze flickered to the trees around them before he settled back on the brothers again. There weren't any birds calling or squirrels chattering.  
  
He held up his hands again, effecting a shrug with the gesture. "Look, we're all on the same side, here," he suggested, though something about the scene screamed at his instincts. He couldn't place it, but he definitely didn't want to take his eyes off the newcomer with his confident swagger and what was undoubtedly an arsenal in his bag. "I came out here to make sure nothing else happens to anyone, same as you. What's wrong with taking a little help taking out the monsters before they destroy even more lives, eh?"  
  
“ ‘Fraid we’ll hafta turn you down there, champ,” Dean said, taking over from Sam. His gruff voice was a shade louder than he might normally talk. The part of the forest with Jacob hiding in it was silent, the teenager likely watching the confrontation between the hunters with bated breath. It was his fate they were deciding here. “We’ve got this hunt under control. Ain’t no use risking your neck out here.”  
  
“A friend of ours said there’s word of a vampire nest a state over if you need a lead,” Sam offered, letting his shoulders slouch now that Dean was around for the abrasive attitude.  
  
Vincent frowned, if his natural countenance didn't already count as a frown. Hunters usually had to posture themselves to show who was more adept at the job. Vincent knew this, and he had scared off plenty of other hunters from a job before. But something simply didn't add up with their attitudes or their quick refusal.  
  
"Thanks for the tip," he said, a slight edge in his voice brought on by the frost between them. "Maybe I'll check that out once I'm done here." He reached into his coat to retrieve his own gun, moving slowly enough so they knew he wasn't about to fire at them, and made sure he had a clip in it. That way, everyone was showing off their weapons. "I'm checking this one out, fellas. Ain't gotta be a whole team thing, but I'm not leaving this case unsolved."  
  
“Whoa,” Sam said beseechingly, holding his hands up, palm out. They didn’t need the situation to spiral out of control just trying to scare the guy off. He regretted the necessity, but didn’t rue trying to explain why they  _weren’t_  hunting Jacob down. Rather, they were helping him try and survive long enough to get him back to normal. In another life, the hunter might be someone useful to have around. Today, he was an obstacle they needed out of the way, preferably with no one getting hurt. “There’s no need for any of that. We’ve been working on this for a few days now, and we work better on our own.”  
  
Dean didn’t lower his shotgun. “We don’t need some rookie with a gun getting out there and messin’ things up,” he blustered irritably.  
  
Vincent scoffed. "Rookie," he echoed. "Listen, smartass, I know the game. I'm not going into this blindfolded." He waved a hand vaguely at the trees Dean had walked out of. "Somewhere in there is a dangerous fucking monster and I'm going to do my part in killing the bastard!"  
  


* * *

  
In the trees, Jacob watched with a growing worry. He hadn't moved since Dean walked off on him, too stunned that he was left on his own to act on it. He couldn't go anywhere without the other hunter spotting him anyway. If the man looked closer at the trees, he'd probably see Jacob's huge face peering out at him.  
  
His heart fell as he thought about the words passing between the hunters out there. He was that dangerous monster. He was a target for this guy and probably most hunters that heard the rumors out here. Sam and Dean, just two guys, were Jacob's only line of defense against a relentless attack. Even they had assumed he was just a mindless beast at first.  
  
A branch under his hand, one that he hadn't noticed when he braced himself on the ground, finally gave in to the pressure exerted on it from Jacob's weight and the ground below. A hollow  _crack_  filled the air, and Jacob glanced down in alarm.  
  


* * *

  
The same moment, Vincent bristled and his gaze left the Winchesters to scan the area around them. The echo made it impossible to know precisely which direction the sound had come from, but with the case laid before him, he couldn't help but be ready for the worst. "Sounds like now it ain't even a question, fellas."  
  
Dean’s shotgun was up in a flash while Sam glanced worriedly behind them, trying to see what Jacob was doing through the tree trunks. He caught just a flash of the giant face moving, and then Sam looked back at Vincent to cover up what he’d seen.  
  
“I’ll have to insist,” Dean stated calmly while he held a gun unwaveringly on the other hunter. “This case is ours, and we don’t need any help. Find yourself another town, kid.”  
  
Vincent was riled yet again by the insinuation that he didn't know what he was doing. He was alive for a reason, after all. He wasn't some rookie, and now that  _something_  was going on, they still wouldn't let him any closer.  
  
"Alright, you're up to something," he determined, locking a glare on Dean. "You got giant coins and enough lore for your own section of the library in that car, but you  _don't_  want anyone else helping out? Bullshit. I met some crazy-ass hunters in my day, but none of 'em were that stupid."  
  
He glanced around once more, trying to find the source of the noise, but his own adrenaline rush made it hard to focus on anything but the immediate threat, that sawed-off shotgun aimed his way. They were hiding something. Maybe they were some kind of cult freaks, but they couldn't be hunters.  
  
He raised his gun, his resolve settled, but before he could focus or make another demand, it seemed like the forest woke up around them.  
  
Jacob pushed himself up and lurched forward, his own adrenaline rush fueling his actions. That guy was ready to attack Sam and Dean. Bullets would sting Jacob's hands, but they'd do a lot worse to those two, no matter how tough they talked. If things got too heated, and it was heading in that direction, someone could get killed because of Jacob.  
  
The other hunter stumbled back in surprise as Jacob’s huge form emerged from the trees. Before he could fire off a panicked shot, Jacob's hands dropped like a wall in front of the Winchesters and their car. Only a second later, he winced as the familiar sting of a gunshot wound erupted in the back of his hand.  
  
With pandemonium raging on all sides, it was understandable that the Winchesters were shocked to find a hand separating them from the other hunter. Jacob’s quick movements had saved them from becoming targets, but dashed any hope of talking the other hunter down.  
  
“I told you to wait in the forest!” Dean snapped in annoyance, ducking down with his shotgun and sidling to the edge of Jacob’s fingertips to risk a glance around.  
  
“Like your plan was working!” Sam snipped right back, pulling his black beretta out.  
  
“Whatever.” Dean glanced up at Jacob, not feeling any fear even with the teenager hovering right over them. “Any ideas, Godzilla?”  
  
A few more gunshots rang out in the clearing as Vincent fired a few more rounds into the back of Jacob's hand in sheer surprise. Jacob winced faintly with each hit (the man couldn't exactly miss) and shook his head. "Making it up as I go," he muttered, though of course they'd have no trouble at all hearing him.  
  
The other hunter dared to take his eyes off Jacob to run back to his truck, tossing his handgun into the back and reaching over the side for something else. Jacob, from his vantage point, saw the man grasping at a shotgun of his own. His jaw clenched and he looked back down at the Winchesters hidden behind his hand.  
  
"Sorry, guys," was their only warning before his fingers curled inwards, ushering Dean back towards his palm. He scooped them both up in his hand and tucked that hand close to his chest where he could defend them.  
  
Only a second later, he felt the wider impact of a shotgun round biting into his arm. He returned his focus to the other hunter and saw that the man aimed the gun higher, and then the sting landed just above the collar of Jacob's hoodie.  
  
After that, the hunter didn't get a chance to reload his gun. Jacob reached down and brushed him with the back of his fingers, sending him sprawling and his gun flying. Then, he grabbed the wildly thrashing man in his hand and lifted him away from the ground and away from his truck full of weapons that'd do Jacob more harm.  
  
His gaze dropped to the Winchesters in his other hand only briefly before he used the same tactic he'd used on them before. He found the tallest tree around and deposited the newcomer in it, making sure he could cling to a branch before letting him go and backing off.  
  
It would only buy them time. Without any clue of what to do next, Jacob looked down at his hand once more.  
  
“How long do you think that’ll hold him?” Dean demanded, disoriented from the fast movements from the giant. Being held in a hand while all the action happened  _around_  him was not what he was used to.  
  
“Not long enough,” Sam replied, remembering how fast they’d gotten down and back on Jacob’s trail. “We have to go. Jacob’s too easy to track while he’s in the trees, and if one hunter found him, more will find him. We can’t risk anyone else getting hurt while we figure this thing out.”  
  
Dean rubbed a hand down his face with a groan. “Shit. And I was just getting used to camping in the woods.” His lips tightened to a thin line and he glanced up to meet Jacob’s expression. “You can’t stay here anymore.”  
  
Jacob glanced over to the other hunter, who was stuck between clinging to the tree and glaring back at him. He put the threats and curses out of his mind as he focused on what Dean said. They had to get going, and they didn't have much time to plan. Even now, the other hunter was getting his bearings and looking for a way to climb down.  
  
"Okay," Jacob answered, knowing that what he was about to do would be met with complaint.  
  
He knelt and, with his free hand, scooped his fingers under the Impala as gently as he could while still mindful of the haste they needed. In seconds, the shining black car was lifted off the ground and rested on his arm to be tucked close and as safe as she could be in the grasp of a giant.  
  
“Watch the undercarriage!” was Dean’s griped complaint, predictably upset to see his car being lifted up with such haste. This was the first time Jacob had dared touch her while the hunters weren’t in the car.  
  
Before Jacob left, he eyed the grey truck the other hunter had brought. With a boot bigger than the vehicle, he nudged it until it rolled over onto a side, and then on its top; that would slow the man down even more.  
  
Then, panic fluttering in his heart, Jacob charged back into the trees, on the path to his clearing so they could determine where to go next.  
  


* * *

  
Vincent paused in his struggles in the tree and his cussing when he heard the metal of his truck groaning. He looked down expecting to see the giant smashing it flat beneath one boot, but instead watched as the monster kicked it over instead. It was like a cat playing with a balled up piece of paper; effortless, powerful.  
  
And incredibly irritating. “You piece a’ shit!” he called, even while the giant turned away from him. After scooping up its little helpers and stranding Vincent in a tree, it seemed it would be ignoring him from here on out. It grabbed that black car and left, wading through the trees like water with receding crashes.  
  
“What the fuck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super suave, boys. Way to win Vince over.
> 
> **Next:** September 5th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	18. Hit the Road, Jack

For the first few moments after watching Jacob take care of the other hunter and his truck, Sam and Dean were silent. It was sobering to see Jacob so easily roll over an entire truck. It ground into them both just what Jacob’s loyalty meant. Jacob didn’t  _have_  to do what they told him to. There was no one alive who could force a giant who stood over 120 feet tall to do anything he didn’t want to.  
  
And here he was, cradling the Impala like she was the most fragile piece of china and holding both of them safe in a hand after getting shot to save them.  
  
Sam slapped a hand against Jacob’s chest. “That was some quick thinking back there, saving our asses,” he called up.  
  
“I had it all under control,” Dean complained, his eyes never wavering from the Impala held on the other side of Jacob. His baby, stretched out on Jacob’s arm like she was weightless. For some reason, every time he thought he’d seen it all, life insisted on sending them crazier situations.  
  
“Right,  _that’s_  what we’ll call it,” Sam scoffed. “And now what? We can’t kill him, he’s just a hunter trying to do the right thing.”  
  
“Well, we sure can’t trust him with Jacob’s secret,” Dean argued back. “He’s already suspicious of us. There’s no way he’ll accept that Jacob’s the victim here. That guy is riled up and lookin’ for a fight, and Jacob’s the unlucky target.” He leaned back with a huff, only glancing briefly away from his car to see Jacob’s path. “That hunter will be able to track Jacob if he knows what he’s doing, and that’ll lead him right to that cliff. And Jacob. We need a different base of operations.”  
  
Jacob winced. He'd known this was coming the moment he broke his cover to protect Sam and Dean. He might have gotten them out of danger, but he'd landed himself in the middle of it in exchange. They could evade people easily, and had done so many times from what he heard.  
  
On the other hand, Jacob would have a hard time hiding behind some buildings. His every move sent earthquakes radiating away from his boots, and brushing past trees ensured that he broke several branches on the way.  
  
"Where do you think I could go? Keep wandering around in the mountains?" he asked as he went. He kept his eye on the skies, as if expecting a helicopter to swoop down at any second, called in by that hunter. "If I leave the wilderness, more people would definitely see me." And then, they'd bring something heavier than a shotgun and one guy.  
  
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in concentration.  _Damn._  The setup in the state park was just about as perfect as it could get for a giant. A ranch close by to snitch cows from, fresh water available in the streams and lake. Animals to catch if Jacob was lucky.  
  
“Alright, look,” Dean said, “if the wilderness is no good, we’ve got to get him somewhere he can’t be tracked down so easily. Trees and brush leave bigger traces of passage than fields will. Or the road.”  _If he doesn’t crack the asphalt._  
  
“How are we supposed to hide a giant on the road?” Sam hissed back.  
  
Dean shrugged. “We’ll use backroads. If we stick to the most deserted roads we can find, we might be able to get Jacob all the way to Bobby’s. Hide during the day in whatever trees we can find, move at night. Jacob just has to follow us and duck down if he sees anyone coming. Bobby can get a good look at him then, and hopefully we can break whatever spell caused this. The entire ‘giant’ problem is moot then.”  
  
Jacob frowned as he listened in on the plan. It was easy enough to talk about, but he wasn't sure he'd always be able to find a place to hide in time, especially out on backroads or if he left the mountains. Mountains at least gave him a lot of natural cover.  
  
Despite his misgivings, he chose to believe that Dean's plan was the best one they had. He couldn't just sit down and hope the other hunter didn't find him; they'd all find him, and he could only withstand so many small injuries before they piled up and did some real damage.  
  
"Okay," he said, trying to hide his trepidation with a confident voice. "We'll just stop at the clearing and try to get rid of any traces we were there and then ... find a different road, I guess."  
  
Jacob could try and hide his uncertainty, but it lingered in the pause he’d made. Dean punched him in the chest. “Don’t think about what you can’t change,” he said sternly. “Once we get to Bobby’s, he lives miles from anyone else. He’s got a field you could stay in, behind the junkyard he runs. It’ll buy us time, if nothing else. I can’t list the number of times Bobby’s had to cover things up.”  
  
“Make sure to grab all the food you can from the clearing,” Sam piped up, his brow furrowed in worry as he thought over the ramifications of what Dean was proposing. “You might be able to find a ranch or two on the road, but there’s no guarantees. It’s a long walk to Bobby’s.”  
  
Jacob nodded distractedly, already thinking that there would be more than enough room in his backpack for the food he had left. He'd be able to carry most of the evidence of his living there away with him, and he had a plan for the evidence he couldn't pick up and hide in a bag.  
  
He fell silent for the next several minutes, until his clearing was in sight. Sam had arrived back early enough that the day wasn't quite mature, and the sky remained blue. Soon enough it'd be dark and they'd have to be on their way.  
  
He set the car down carefully, right where she'd been throughout the night before. Then, he lowered the hand with Sam and Dean to the ground. "I'll pack up all my things. You should get your tent and stuff but don't worry about tracks, I have an idea for maybe covering that up and buying time."  
  
They hurriedly got off his hand, freeing Jacob up to go to his own stuff. Sam went to take the tent down, but Dean had to check the Impala. Watching her be carried in one hand had stressed him more than he’d admit, but he hid it under the guise of a perfectly valid check of the undercarriage to make sure the Impala was ready to move.  
  
The tent was shoved haphazardly into the backseat, followed shortly by the cooler. Dean pitched in at that point, grabbing up the rest of the supplies strewn about the clearing (the ones their size, at least), and tucking them into the trunk while the false bottom was kept clear. They needed the weapons in easy reach.  
  
All their actions were taken with haste, knowing they might be on a ticking clock while the other hunter either tracked them down or called in backup. Any confrontation between them could escalate until someone ended up shot.  
  
“What do you think Jacob means about buying more time?” Dean wondered as he straightened the last of the tent poles in the backseat.  
  
“Guess we’ll find out,” Sam said dryly.  
  
Jacob, for his part, had a lot less to deal with, at least proportionally. He stuffed the pieces of his metal traps into his bag first, and then rearranged the extra clothes he had in there so there'd be room. On top of that, he placed the crates of produce from the food truck that he had left, and any other pieces left behind from his stay there. His small pillow was stuffed at the very top of his supplies to cushion everything else.  
  
He shrugged the backpack on while he was still kneeling and ran his hand over the dirt at the base of the cliff. It had been his bed for the last few weeks, a harsh and unforgiving surface to lie on. At least he'd had the shade of that cliff as some kind of shelter.  
  
Looking over the Impala, Jacob checked on the progress there. "You guys about ready for another trip?" he asked, trying to offer a smile. It was tighter than he intended, thanks to the huge uncertainty that lay ahead of him.  
  
“I think we can handle it,” Dean shot back instantly. He swung open the driver’s side door of the Impala, mentally preparing himself for the sight of his baby held in those huge hands once more.  
  
He’d never expected his eighteen foot car to look  _little_ , but she might as well be a model car in Jacob’s grip.  
  
“So what’s this plan of yours?” Dean asked as he leaned against the door, looking at the sight of that massive backpack on Jacob’s back with respect. It had to weigh more than some buildings.   
  
On the other side of the car, Sam climbed in, already prepared to go. He rolled his window down while he waited for Dean to climb in.  
  
"Well, about that," Jacob answered, eyeing Dean as if wondering how the plan would go over with him. He could see approval or disapproval being equally likely with something like this. He threw one glance over his shoulder at the cliff. 'His' cliff.  
  
"I'm planning on knocking that down. I think I can go up the slope to the side and give it a kick ..." he looked back at the Impala and the two waiting by or in it. He was almost sheepish. "I think it'll knock down enough rocks to cover the fact that I've been living here for a few weeks."  
  
Dean didn’t give away any of his thoughts about Jacob’s ‘plan,’ though his face was slightly ashen at the reminder that Jacob  _could_  kick down a cliff. Somehow they’d gotten themselves in over their heads with this case, but there was no going back now.  
  
“Not a scratch on my car,” Dean said, jabbing an insistent finger at Jacob.  
  
He ducked into the cab, and slammed his door shut resoundingly. There wasn’t much either of them could do to help Jacob until they found a road, so Dean occupied himself with rolling down his window like Sam had already done. Sam had one arm resting on his open window, watching Dean curiously.  
  
“What?” Dean griped.  
  
Sam shook his head. “Nothing, just… figured you’d argue more,” he replied.  
  
“Unless you’ve got a better plan, this is all we have,” Dean said, his eyes trailing up the cliff. “It might buy us some time if the hunter starts chasing his own tail in the forest. There’s more than one path from Jacob checking his traps the last few weeks.”  
  
Jacob sighed, almost as shocked as Dean by the thought of what he was about to do. The thought that he  _could_  might not cease to amaze him, if he never got cured of this extra size. He felt so out of place and there was a lot more power in just one hand than he wanted.  
  
"Here we go again," he muttered, reaching down to once again pick up an entire car. He was getting too used to that motion.  _Time to be a minor natural disaster._  
  
Standing, Jacob held the Impala close to himself as always. Making sure she was secured in his grip, he angled to the side of his clearing and turned to face it.  
  
Without lingering too long on the sight of his erstwhile home, Jacob lifted one boot from the ground and kicked out with it, knocking into the cliff. The first impact knocked several boulders down and kicked up some dust, but the cliff stood.  
  
The second impact eroded enough of its support that the natural structure collapsed from beneath itself and Jacob had to take several steps back. The loud crashing of boulders and house-sized rocks knocking into each other filled the air, and several trees opposite the cliff were knocked over like blades of grass before the small landslide came to a stop.  
  
Echoes of the landslide bounced throughout the trees, and more than one flock of birds took flight in the distance. Sam and Dean both watched from their place in the car, leaning over to see out the passenger's side window. Green waves of hoodie fabric were all that could be seen from Dean’s window.  
  
“Good thing he’s on our side,” Sam said, swallowing at the sight. All the way back in the beginning, Jacob had gone out of his way to avoid hurting anyone, even after they shot his hands up and got stuck in a tree.  
  
Jacob scanned the pile of rocks for any signs of his habitation there. All of the flattened ground had been covered, and even the trees he ripped up could now be blamed on the landslide. He nodded to himself for a good enough job, and turned away from the clearing. At this point, it was only a matter of picking a direction until he found a road.  
  
He kept a paranoid awareness on the sky and listened for shouting voices. Now that his secret was more or less out, Jacob worried that he'd soon have many more people coming to  _kill_  him. Near the Impala, his heart plodded faster. The new injuries on his hands, arms, and neck stung with the air whipping past him, but he couldn't stop now.  
  
Down in the car, as heart-pounding as it was to be carried through the air by a giant who'd just kicked down an entire cliff with one leg, the trip soon slipped into monotony. They couldn’t help Jacob from down in the car, and could only watch the trees pass by outside.  
  
Crashing footsteps from down below rattled up Jacob’s entire body, jarring the Impala each step. Dean sent a glare towards the green fabric that blocked the view from the driver’s side, and tried to lean against the door so he could watch the outside world from Sam’s window.  
  
While they traveled, Sam twisted around in his seat and rifled through the belongings in the back, pushing aside some of the tent fabric until he could snatch up one of the library books he’d checked out.  
  
Based on their current run of luck, the library might not be getting those books back anytime soon.  
  
“Here.” Sam tossed one at Dean. “Something for the trip.”  
  
Dean plucked up the edge of a cover like he was holding something gross. “I’m so thrilled,” he said sarcastically.  
  
Sam got a book for himself and leafed through to the section on giants. “Might as well pass the time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit the Road, Jack
> 
> And don't you come back   
> No more, no more, no more, no more!
> 
> **Next:** September 9th, 2018 at 9pm est


	19. Giant Lost

Jacob walked for a long time.   
  
Every time he thought he might have found a twisting backroad, it was merely a stream winding through the trees, or the path of a much smaller landslide than the one he'd just created to cover his trail. He didn't know what Sam and Dean were doing to pass the time, but he spent his looking around and waiting for something disastrous to happen.  
  
Thankfully, it was an uneventful walk. He put some distance between himself and his former cliff, and by then the sun was beginning to set. That, he deemed, was as good a time as any to chance heading down the slope to continue his search.  
  
He finally found a side road that was crumbling at the shoulders and needed repaving. Hopefully it would do, because he didn't want to keep up his aimless walk for too long into the night or they all might end up lost. Heaven forbid he trip on something while carrying that Impala.  
  
"Okay, here's a road," he announced as he knelt, but hesitated to set the car down just yet. "Which direction should I point the car?"  
  
Dean twisted around in his seat, trying to see if they were near any landmarks. Sam was rifling through the scattered maps on his side of the car.  
  
“We should go…” Sam flipped the edge of the map he was holding down to glance at an atlas that was sitting on his lap. “North. That’ll put us away from any towns in the area long enough to get our bearings.” He stuck his hand into his bag, shoving his clothes aside to dig out the compass Bobby had tossed at them after hearing about their eventful wendigo hunt.  
  
Sam leaned out the open window, glancing around as he gave the spinning needle of the compass a second to slow down. He leaned his right elbow against the door to brace himself as he glanced up. “That way!” he called to Jacob, pointing along the road in the direction that was as close to north as they could get.  
  
Jacob nodded and knelt lower. The car's tires returned to solid ground and he drew his hands away at last to give the brothers plenty of space. The road, and the car on it, looked like model versions of the real things. Jacob felt like the pine trees around him should be made of plastic and paint.  
  
He checked the back of his hand and arm with a frown. The shots on the back of his hand had already stopped bleeding, but he couldn't tell much about his arm; all he knew was that the shotgun hit had torn through his sleeve.  
  
"Lead the way, I guess," he said, absently brushing his fingertips over the shot on his neck. It stung, but he'd survive that one, too. Surviving had become the name of the game weeks ago, and Jacob knew the drill.  
  
The Impala roared to life with a familiar rumbling purr, and Dean felt some of the tension in his arms start to release. Whatever else was going on, whatever crazy they were tied up with in this case, he was right where he belonged. Hands on the wheel, Sam riding shotgun.  
  
Giant ready to follow.  
  
Dean leaned out the window to shout instructions at Jacob. “We’re going to put some distance between us and this park before we stop! Make sure to keep up, and if you see any other cars on the road, get out of sight. Once we’re far enough away, we’ll find a place to stop and regroup!”  
  
With that said, he slid back into his seat and switched the car into drive. The Impala was eager to get started, based on the jolt that ran through her when his foot pressed down on the gas. “Got directions out of this place?” Dean shot at Sam.  
  
Sam shook his head. “Hopefully we find a street sign before we find houses.”  
  
Jacob didn't bother answering; they knew that he'd follow. He let the car's lights dwindle away for a second or two before heaving himself up to his full gargantuan height. One shift of his backpack on his shoulders, and he followed.  
  
The road didn't crumble under his boot like he’d feared. Jacob could hear the nearest trees rattling in time with his steps like always, but he at least didn't leave any lasting trail in the form of car-sized boot prints in cement.  
  
Every time the Impala sped far enough along, Jacob took another step, keeping himself on track with those tiny red pinpricks of light.  
  
Down in the Impala, Dean couldn’t stop himself from watching those boots follow with a morbid fascination. Every time Jacob took a step they swept forward, covering more ground than the Impala in seconds. The speed of the car started to creep up as Dean found himself pressing harder on the gas.  
  
“You figure out where we are yet?” he asked Sam, who now had a flashlight out to illuminate the maps.  
  
Sam shook his head. “Do you see any side streets coming up?”  
  
Dean scanned the old, worn-down road steadily, only glancing back when the ground shook under them again as Jacob took a step.  _Those boots better stay far away from my car,_  he found himself thinking. One misstep would be all it took. Those boots were longer than the car.  
  
“There we go,” Dean said, spotting a green sign lit up by the Impala’s high beams in the distance. He squinted. “Hawk’s Nest Trail.”  
  
Sam flipped aside a map, humming under his breath as he searched diligently. “Here. We’re only a few miles from the edge of the state park. There’s a turn coming up in two miles.”  
  
With that taken care of, Sam dug out his phone. He frowned at it. “Still no bars. We’ll have to tell Bobby what happened. We probably want to warn him.”  
  
Dean snickered. “What, don’t want to show up at his front door with your own Godzilla? ‘Sorry, Bobby, he followed us home!’ "  
  
Their turn appeared ahead, and Dean decelerated enough that the car didn’t slide into the new direction. This new road was a straighter path without the winding turns, so he pressed down on the gas and started to get some real speed.  
  
They finally escaped the cell phone dead zone, and Sam dialed up Bobby instantly. “Yeah, hey Bobby.” Dean listened with half an ear, his eyes on the road to avoid the glare from the flashlight.  
  
“We’ve got a problem.” Sam was intently listening, and Dean wished he could hear Bobby’s responses. He arched an eyebrow at Sam, and the phone was put on speaker mode while Dean flicked the radio off.  
  
“ _What the hell else can go wrong for you boys?_ ” came Bobby’s gruff reply, filling the car with his voice.  
  
“Right, ah… there was another hunter tailing me, and he managed to get the jump on us.” Sam went on to describe the other man, patiently detailing everything they knew.  
  
“ _Balls. Sounds like you ran into Vincent._ ”  
  
“You know the guy?” Dean interrupted.  
  
“ _Heard of him, more’s like. He’s a real hotshot, been up an’ comin’ the last few years. Haven’t had the pleasure of workin’ with him yet, but I talked to a few people that did._ ”  
  
“Yeah, well he’s probably not too happy with us right about now,” Sam said with a wince, remembering the state of Vincent’s truck when they’d left. “He took potshots at Jacob so he ended up in a tree and Jacob might have… knocked his truck over. Trying to slow him down.”  
  
“ _Balls…_ ”  
  
Sam glanced away from the phone, and felt a trickle of worry. “Dean, where’s Jacob?”  
  
“What are you…” Dean looked in his rearview mirror, realizing all that was behind the car was one lone motorcycle.  
  
And no giant.  
  
“Son of a  _bitch,_ ” Dean groaned.  
  
“Dean, how do you lose a  _giant?!_ ” Sam demanded.  
  
“ _You_ lost _him?!_ ” came Bobby’s voice, still listening in on the conversation. “ _How’d you idjits manage to lose an entire_ giant _in the wilderness?!_ ”  
  
“Hey for one thing, we’re not in the forest anymore,” Dean tried to defend himself. For another…”  
  
With a screech of tires, he pulled the Impala off the road, letting her idle long enough for the motorcyclist to pass them by. “We’ll call you back later,” Dean said, reaching over to hang the phone up with one final warning. “We might be bringing a giant back with us.”  
  
“If we  _find_  him,” Sam said in annoyance, stowing the phone in his pocket. “Seriously, you  _lost_  a giant!”  
  
“I wasn’t the only one not watching where he was!” Dean groused as he turned the car around in a fast u-turn. “You coulda said something if you noticed he was gone!”  
  
He flicked the high beams on and started a slow crawl back down the road they’d just driven, both brothers glancing out the windows to see if Jacob was still around or if he’d skipped town the moment they weren’t paying attention.  
  
Long minutes passed with both Sam and Dean squinting in the night to see if they could find the currently MIA giant. The car drove down the deserted back road at a crawl, beams on high. Not a single street light lit up the world, and houses were few and far between.  
  
Considering they’d lost a  _giant_ , that was probably a good thing.  
  
A trickle of suspicion found its way into Dean’s chest. Next to him, Sam was leaning out his window with his flashlight to let it play over the thick underbrush that filled the space between the trees. If Jacob did anything, it would be their fault for taking him away from his safe clearing he’d found. They were the ones who’d encouraged him to leave the state park behind instead of going deeper into the mountains where even a giant might be able to vanish in the valleys and cliffs.  
  
Taking that step would be giving up, and giving up went against Dean’s nature. But where the hell had Jacob gone? In this black night, they might never find him. Especially if he didn’t  _want_  to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a road trip with a giant, what could go wrong!?
> 
>  **Next:** September 12th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love! Don't forget to feed the authors!


	20. Bobby Singer's Good Name

The increased speed caught Jacob off guard and he took a longer stride to make sure he kept up with the car. The motor, so powerful in reality, sounded far away like a remote control car from his prodigious height. The tail lights winked with every slight change in the incline as the very odd trio made their way along.  
  
There were breaks in the sprawling forest with more frequency now, and Jacob watched ever closer for other cars down the road. Once or twice, he spotted what he thought were other headlights in the distance, but they always turned down other roads long before they were in range of seeing him. The path in front and behind them remained clear for several lucky miles that Jacob and the Impala put behind them with ease.  
  
Eventually, that luck had to falter.  
  
Jacob glanced behind and saw a new tiny dot of light, like a star far too close to the ground. He didn't hesitate for a second before stepping to the side and ducking down among the nearest trees, nearly knocking one or two over in his startled haste. The Impala left his thoughts to be replaced by a mantra of  _Don't be seen, don't be seen,_ though he hoped that Sam and Dean would notice that earthquakes no longer followed them and instead there was only a late-night motorcyclist tearing down the road.  
  
For a few minutes, Jacob worried that he might have lost the brothers for good. If they got too far away and didn't know where to look for him, he could be stranded until daylight broke.  _Then_  anyone could see him huddled in the trees, and call the police or military in. He'd be shot down or captured to disappear forever into some warehouse.  
  
He shifted uncomfortably in his hunched position, and a nearby tree creaked pitifully. He'd had to shove several aside to hide himself before the motorcyclist spotted his looming form. His backpack pushed up against several trees behind him.  
  
Jacob dragged a hand down his face. Just when he thought he might have to backtrack and head back into the deeper woods for safety, he heard a motor running.  
  
There was no guarantee it was Dean and Sam returning, but all the same he let himself feel hopeful. He took a chance and leaned out of the trees just enough to peek up the road. He saw the headlights and ducked back hastily, but the dark shape crawling back towards him  _seemed_  familiar. He watched the light edge closer until it crept over the side of the road where, Jacob newly discovered, he'd knocked a fence over in his haste.  
  
_At least it'll help them find me,_  he told himself ruefully.  
  


* * *

  
A splash of color to the side of the road caught Dean’s eye, and his brow furrowed at the sight of a white fence splintered to pieces. He didn’t recall passing that before. “Here we go,” Dean muttered, pulling the car off the side of the road.  
  
Leaning out of the window, Sam let the light shine past the fence. “Jacob?” he called, his voice hesitant and not as loud as it might be. They were still deep in the woods where bears could be about, and not keen to attract any attention from them or any humans that might be around.  
  
Before any other answer, a heavy sigh from massive lungs gave away Jacob's presence. "Yeah, I'm here," he said, relief coating every syllable. He leaned forward and planted a hand on the ground to move into the small circle of light. He couldn't stop a grin at the sight of the Impala with Sam leaning out to look for him.  
  
"I guess that guy didn't see me," he said, some pride in his voice. He'd gotten off the road in time, even if several branches and a fence had paid for his haste. He shifted in his cramped huddle. "Is ... is it clear for me to stand again?"  
  
Dean rubbed a hand down his face in frustration. “All this was from one biker?” he grumbled in resignation, remembering the motorcycle that had roared past them after Jacob had vanished.  
  
“All it takes is one,” Sam reminded him. He looked up and down the road, judging it free of anyone else. “You’re clear!” he called up to Jacob.  
  
“Try not to get lost this time!” Dean scolded. “And let’s try and cut down on the amount of collateral damage you cause! We don’t want trampled fences showin’ up on the news tomorrow morning. It won’t take long for Vincent to figure out what caused it.”  
  
Jacob frowned and his eyes wandered to the fence he'd reduced to splinters. He couldn't help but reach a hand out to nudge the broken pile of wood, and even more of the paint flaked away from the contact. He sighed again and felt some heat rising to his cheeks and ears. He hadn't exactly  _meant_  to destroy the fence.  
  
"I'll do better," he promised, brushing his hands off. It was surprising how a voice that had to shout for him to hear properly was so commanding. "I'll make sure to check for fences if I have to hide again."  
  
That said, he shifted once more. Trees around him creaked in relief as, once again, Jacob rose to his full height and removed his bulk from their space. The Impala and the lights on it dwindled below, and he waited for Dean to lead the way.  
  
The small engine revved down below, and the Impala took a sharp turn so she was pointing away from the state park once more. The tires hit the asphalt, and the car was off with a screech, Dean’s heavy foot on the gas pedal forcing Jacob to keep up with them instead of him worrying about his speed.  
  
“Dude, we’re not supposed to  _lose_  Jacob,” Sam said sharply as he watched the giant’s progress through his side mirror. “ _Again._ ”  
  
“What?” Dean’s eyes went up to the rearview mirror. “I’m  _not_  trying to lose him,” he defended himself stubbornly. “We need to cover some ground. He can keep up.”  
  
That, and watching those huge boots press into the ground made him want to keep his car and her important cargo within out of range. It would only take a second’s mistake for the Impala and the Winchesters to go the way of that fence they quickly left behind them. With any luck, it would go unnoticed until long after they were gone.  
  
“See if you can find any good places to stop for the night,” Dean said. “We should check on Jacob before long.”  
  
“Right,” Sam said, slouching down in his seat.  
  
“And keep an eye on that giant!”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. “ _You_  lost sight of him too,” he commented dryly, pulling his phone back out and punching  **REDIAL**. “Hey Bobby… Yeah, everything’s fine. We found Jacob…”  
  


* * *

  
Bobby had to stifle a yawn as he listened to Sam’s long-winded explanation with occasional additions from Dean. He blinked, dragging a hand down his face. It was past the middle of the night when Sam’s voice tapered off with the worrisome ending.  
  
They were bringing a  _giant_  to Sioux Falls.  
  
_Sheriff’s gonna just love this if she ever gets wind of it,_  Bobby thought with an internal grumble at the memory of the sheriff that gave him such a hard time. Town drunk, indeed. If they knew half the shit he did about what was out there in the dark, they’d be drinking  _with_ him instead of ridiculing.  
  
“Look, Sam,” Bobby started, propping the phone on his shoulder so he could open the fridge and dig around for a cold beer. “You better watch your tail, and not just because Jacob’s on it. Vincent’s not gonna give up so easily if he figures out where you went. You mighta bought yourself some time, but unless we get Jacob back to normal, you’ll have hunters after him every step of the way.”  
  
Sam’s voice crackled over the speaker, arguing with him. That stubborn streak wasn’t as obvious in the younger Winchester as it was in his brother, but it was still there. Sam would dig his heels in just as stubbornly as Dean if he found the right cause for it.  
  
“Don’t tell  _me_  he’s just a kid,” Bobby argued back. “I already know that. Tell all those hunters who’ve been callin’ me. I already got a call from Vinny, askin’ if I could find someone to tow his truck. The truck  _Jacob_  kicked over.”  
  
A moment more of listening and Bobby sighed, pinching his brow. “Just don’t let Jacob get into any trouble, you hear me? I’ll see if I can figure out what we’ll do with him when you get here.”  
  
The rest of his night was accompanied by grumbled curses against Winchesters and their terrible,  _terrible_  plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bobby is unavoidably tied up in Sam and Dean's 'plans.'
> 
>  **Next:** September 16th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	21. Respite

After that first scare, the trip was uneventful. Jacob kept up a brisk pace so he wouldn't lose the Impala in the night. The engine was powerful, and sometimes Jacob swore Dean would speed up when he was close enough to see the taillights more clearly. He wondered if he was walking faster than the speed limit. His long strides covered so much ground.  
  
Finally, when he'd been covering his increasingly frequent yawns for half an hour, the Impala slowed down ahead. The terrain sloped and rose around them in what felt like all directions, with mountains looming over even Jacob behind them. The brothers had stopped the car near a flatter area thick with trees.  
  
Jacob walked carefully when he caught up with the car, and stepped off the road with the lightest steps he could manage. He made sure there wasn't a fence under his boots and crouched down to check on the car and see what was going on.  
  
"Hey, guys, how's my walking?" he greeted, trying to keep his voice hushed despite knowing that it was loud and clear to them no matter what.  
  
Dean gave Jacob a flat look as he got out of the car, leaving the high beams on and the engine running. They could use the light to help them see around the area. The small handheld flashlights both brothers had only did so much.  
  
“I didn’t see you break down any more fences, so I guess we’ll call that an improvement,” Dean grumbled.  
  
“This is as far as we’re going tonight,” Sam said, taking over. “We need to take care of those injuries you got with Vincent, and then figure out a route before we take off again.”  
  
Jacob glanced down at the back of his hand, newly reminded of the injury there. It stung, but blood had dried over the wound and limited the exposure to the air. The shot to his neck was the same way, and in the glow from their tiny lights he could see a small dark stain on his sleeve from the hit on his arm.  
  
"Sounds ... sounds good," he said haltingly. Mention of the other hunter tempted him to glance back up the road as if they'd see that truck somehow miraculously following them. Or some other car loaded with weapons ready to fire at him.  
  
"We'll start with the easy ones I guess," he muttered, planting his injured hand on the ground and pulling his sleeve up with the other. Both wound sites were revealed in the low lighting. Finally, Jacob lowered himself so that his whole arm lay flat. Somewhere behind him, his shifting boots pushed against a tree that complained with a series of creaks.  
  
“You got the hand?” Sam asked Dean, dropping his bag on the ground.  
  
Dean nodded, his eyes never leaving the dried blood that caked the back of Jacob’s knuckles. Just like when Dean had unloaded an entire clip into Jacob’s hand, the injury was something Jacob could easily brush off. If it wasn’t for the bullets that had found their way under his skin, they wouldn’t need to do anything. For a  _gunshot_ wound. Even the bullets might not do lasting damage, if no infection set in.  
  
Taking out his own first aid kit, Dean took a careful step onto the back of Jacob’s hand, avoiding the dried blood. It only took a moment of searching with the flashlight to find the broken flesh, and he knelt down next to the hole.  
  
At the same time, Sam climbed up Jacob’s arm. “This should only hurt for a second,” he warned.  
  
With the way he had to lean over, Jacob loomed almost directly overhead. He felt strange, looking down at them so closely while they moved about. He averted his gaze to watch their surroundings instead. "Yeah, I know," he replied.  
  
His muscles tensed with the sensation of tiny little boots walking on his hand and arm. Jacob's fingers even twitched, and he glanced to Dean to make sure that the motion didn't upset his perch before they could even begin getting the bullets out of him. "Sorry."  
  
“Just  _try_  and hold still,” Dean said sharply back, glad he was in a crouch. Otherwise he might have been tossed to the ground by that twitch. Keeping his center of balance proved to be a challenge even when Jacob wasn’t moving. The skin was soft and shifted beneath Dean’s boots as he took a breath to prepare himself for pulling bullets out of the giant teenager.  
  
Removing bullets didn’t bother Dean. He’d done it before, on himself and on Sam, so he had plenty of practice. He’d even had to stitch himself up without any backup. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t fun, but that’s how a hunter had to get by when they were on their own. Having Sam around kept that from being a problem anymore, at least.  
  
It was the fact that Dean was about to pull these tiny bullets from a hand that could close around both him  _and_  Sam that threw him off. Nothing in his life could compare, and Dean was glad Jacob hadn’t sustained any worse injuries. He didn’t look forward to the thought of stitching up a giant. Any thread they could find might not be strong enough to hold. They might need some goddamn  _rope_  if it ever came to that.  
  
Despite his misgivings, the bullets came out easily. All Dean had to worry about was if the injury had started to scab over, he needed to rip it open again. They couldn’t leave the metal shards inside Jacob without risking infection.  
  
Sam did the same up on Jacob’s arm, patiently removing any bullets he could find. The smooth surface of the muscular arm quickened the job, and he finished up before Dean. Sam brushed his wrist over his forehead to wipe the sweat. “I should take a look at your neck,” he said, glancing up at Jacob.  
  
Jacob glanced back down at Sam while his free hand brushed at the wound on his neck again. The feeling of dried blood against his fingertips didn't catch his attention nearly as much as the sight of a person standing on his arm like some kind of very small falcon. Sam held his balance well despite the weird surface, and Jacob found himself hoping he didn't accidentally knock the little guy over from that height.  
  
"I might lie down for that," he suggested. "Gives you more stable ground and all." Privately, he thought that he definitely didn't want to simply lean close enough for them to reach; then he'd be unable to see them while he loomed even closer, and risked squashing them or at the very least bumping into them.  
  
He waited for them to be clear of his hand and arm before sitting up again. He shucked off his backpack and set it aside before gently lowering himself to the ground completely. He realized with some dismay that, if Vincent had used a stronger weapon, he probably could have killed Jacob with aim like that. The brothers would be fixing up a wound right on his  _neck._  
  
They had to figure out a way for him to get better. They had to. "Okay, uh," he said, turning his head enough to see them in his periphery. "Need a lift up?"  
  
“I should be fine,” Sam determined, eyeing up the obstacle in his way. It was at an awkward angle for Jacob, so he didn’t see the need for the help.  
  
Dean took a step back to watch as Sam scrambled up Jacob’s shoulder. He wanted to keep a close watch on his younger brother, especially with the way Sam was always putting himself in situations where he’d be helpless next to Jacob if the teen wasn’t friendly.  
  
Up on Jacob’s shoulder, Sam stepped carefully over his collarbone and panned his flashlight over the skin that peeked out of the folds of green hoodie fabric. It was only seconds before he found the blood splatters, and Sam dropped to his knees.  
  
Sam put a hand on Jacob’s neck, feeling the strong pulse that thundered through the carotid artery. “A foot to the side and you might have more to worry about than a little bullet hole,” Sam said worriedly. “We might not find the bullet if Vince hit your artery.” He shifted and held the long tweezers out, using one hand to stretch the injury open enough to slip in.  
  
Jacob pursed his lips. The injuries on his hands and arm were easy to push out of mind compared to this. The sensitive skin on his neck flared with the stinging pain as Sam worked, and he winced before he could stop himself. His jaw, so close to the figure crouched right on his chest, clenched to avoid him twitching his whole head.  
  
He watched the black sky above and realized with an internal jolt that Sam could take him out right that instant. He stood right over Jacob's throat, and he carried guns and knives with him. Even Dean could leap forward with his machete right then if he thought Jacob was a threat. He had to hope that his continued trust in them would pay off.  
  
Resting at his sides, Jacob's hands curled into nervous fists while one last twinge of pain crackled across his neck. When he sighed tersely, the upward rush of air disturbed some bats in flight as they wheeled about, and they fluttered away squeaking in surprise.  
  
"I guess that wasn't so bad," he mused.   
  
Sam wiped away some of the blood that flowed out of the newly-reopened wound. “Should heal right up,” he assured Jacob. “Brace yourself.”  
  
With the flask of whiskey, Sam poured a splash of alcohol over the bullet hole to keep an infection from setting in so close to a major artery. The skin under him tensed, and Sam caught sight of Jacob’s jaw flexing. Muscles stronger than Sam clenched in pain, and he put a hand out to keep from tumbling over.   
  
There were always reminders of just how much bigger Jacob was compared to…  _everyone_  else. The fact that Sam was over twenty feet in the air just crouching on Jacob’s shoulder while he was lying flat on the ground, or the fact that either brother could fit in his mouth, his pocket… a fist. Sam sighed, brushing a handkerchief over Jacob’s skin to swab up what blood he could. “There.”  
  
Standing, he walked over to the edge of Jacob’s shoulder. Instead of jumping down and risking injury, Sam let himself slide down to land close to where Dean kept watch.  
  
Jacob paused, if only to make extra sure that Sam was no longer walking on him. The feeling of those tiny boots walking across his collarbone and shoulder left a phantom sensation. He turned his head to the side to locate the two of them before pushing himself up.  
  
One hand nearly went to the injury on his neck, knitting the air just inches (to his view) from it. Not wanting to tempt fate with an infection, he planted the hand on the ground to prop himself up and peer down at his unexpected but appreciated allies.  
  
They remained, despite being vulnerable near him. When anyone else would have given up on him, they stuck around. "Thanks ... again," he said, recalling the first time he'd allowed Sam to look at his injuries. Back then, he'd still been very worried that Dean would attack him while he let his guard down. "Were you ... uh, are you guys gonna drive on looking for a place to stay or were you gonna rough it with me again?"  
  
Dean shared a look with Sam, both on the same page. “It’s not a good idea for us to be seen in town right now if Vincent’s out hunting. He’s already blowing up Bobby’s phone lines for information. It’s only a matter of time before someone figures out the ‘Sam and Dean’ he ran into are none other than the Winchesters.”  
  
“Let’s just be glad Gordon’s in jail,” Sam muttered. If Gordon got hold of Vincent after their show earlier that night, Vincent might be gunning for Sam just as much as the older hunter. Gordon already thought  _Sam_  was a monster. If he found both brothers  _helping_  a ‘monster,’ there’d be no stopping him.  
  
“I’m telling you, we’re gonna regret leaving Gordon alive down the road,” Dean growled, remembering the guy with the audacity to ‘hunt’ his younger brother. “I don’t think Vincent’s as bad.” He turned his head up to Jacob. “It won’t be the first night we’ve roughed it in the Impala,” he said, dismissing their accommodations. “We’ll find a place for you to hunker down tonight, and we won’t travel again until it’s dark tomorrow. One of us can run out during the day and see what we can grab in town for supplies.”  
  
A smile twitched at Jacob's lips. A part of him, when he looked at that Impala, still saw a model car. The thought of someone being able to sleep in there seemed so strange while the rest of him adamantly reminded himself that it was normal. His tired mind was mixing perspectives.  
  
"I'm betting I'll find room in those trees to lie down somewhere," he said optimistically.  _I might only have to knock a few of them over._  
  
With that said, he shifted to a kneel and picked up his backpack again, returning it to his shoulders. "I'll be just a little ways in, I guess. Making sure I'm outta sight. You'll probably be able to track me down." And then, he stood slowly, one backwards step crushing shrubs under his boot as he edged his way into the trees with an awkward gait in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next:** September 19th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	22. Crunch

The Winchesters watched their tame giant vanish into the thicket of trees, only wincing a few times when they heard a crash. Before long, Jacob quieted down. He must have found a place he could lay down to rest.  
  
Dean edged the Impala closer to the treeline to get her out of sight of the main road. The engine cut out, leaving them in silence. They quickly worked to stuff everything from the backseat into the trunk, clearing a space for Sam. There wasn’t much point in going through all the work to pitch the tent when they would be gone the next morning, not when there was a perfectly good car to sleep in.  
  
With Sam in the backseat using a sleeping bag for a pillow, Dean settled in the front. He rolled down one window so they’d be able to hear Jacob from where they were parked, if it was even possible to miss the earthquakes the kid caused whenever he shifted.  
  
Then, they slept.  
  


* * *

  
Despite the cramped and uncomfortable space between the dense trees, Jacob slept hard. He'd walked for miles and well into the night. This, after weeks of less food intake, exhausted the teenager-turned-giant. Even the calls of bullfrogs and crickets couldn't hold his attention.  
  
The morning came with sun piercing through the broken canopy with ease, along with several birds squawking indignantly about Jacob's presence among them. He had to wave one enormous hand in the air to shoo some of them away before he could yawn.  
  
He didn't want to learn what it felt like to accidentally inhale an  _entire bird._  He dragged his hand down his face and wished he had a lake nearby to splash some water on it; it would help him wake faster.  
  
Eventually he pushed himself up cautiously and listened to the surroundings. Only the sounds of nature greeted him, with no distant motors running, so he took the chance to get to his feet and walk in a low stoop back towards the Impala. A giant hand big enough to pick up the whole car reached out and pushed aside a supple young tree so he could check on the Winchesters' status.  
  
The black car sat idly in the small field that surrounded the copse of trees. The sun gleamed off the shiny black body, reflecting off the surface even where fingerprints marred her paint job.  
  
Inside the car, Sam gave Jacob a wave. There was a book in one hand and a journal to write in in his other, scribbling away on the case they were on while Dean slept the morning away. With the windows down, he could hear Jacob coming from all the way in the center of the thicket, and feel the ground under them shake.  
  
Slumped down in the front seat, Dean didn’t budge an inch. Sam slapped his shoulder, making the older hunter jolt up and dive for his gun.  
  
Snickering, Sam leaned out the window. “Morning!” he called innocently while Dean tried to figure out who’d assaulted him in his sleep.  
  
Jacob snickered before he could reply. "Hey," he greeted, hearing Dean's grumbling inside the car. He leaned down enough so he could tilt his head and see the brothers better. Even with his long night's sleep, there was a weariness to the motion; he shouldn't  _have_  to lean so far down to see inside a car.  
  
"Well, my curse still didn't break overnight," he pointed out with a mock disappointed look on his face. "So I guess I'll hang out here all day." At least he had a lead, flimsy as it might be. A place to go where people didn't immediately run and scream or shoot at him.  
  
“Right.” Sam rubbed his face. “I’ll…”  
  
“Car’s mine,” Dean interrupted before he could get anything out. “You went to town yesterday, today you can hang here with your books.”  
  
Sam hefted a huge, world-suffering sigh as he cast a wry grin up at Jacob. “Whatever you say.” He declined to mention that he already planned on sticking around for the day.  
  
Dean pulled the handle of the car door, and just about tumbled out since he was still leaning against it. He stretched his arms over his head, enjoying the brisk morning air.  
  
Neither brother was a stranger to sleeping in the car. They both went about their morning ablutions without delay, vanishing one after the other behind some of the thicker trees. Dean was leaning against the Impala, brushing his teeth as Sam came back and started to pull the books out from the backseat, along with the tent.  
  
“Just in case it rains,” Sam explained to the strange look he got from Dean. “Can’t let the books get wet. The answer we need might be in one.”  
  
Not long after, Sam and Jacob were left in the dust as the Impala tore down the side road, Dean more than ready to go looking for supplies while he could. If the case drew out too long, the Winchesters would need to stay out of sight for a while. Jacob watched the black car dwindle into the distance much longer than Sam could before he lost sight of it.  
  
They ended up moving back into the trees a short ways. The side road was not often used, but it was better safe than sorry, and Jacob was hard to miss in the daylight. To that end, he remained sitting for much of the day.  
  
The answer they needed wasn't so easy for Sam to find, but he helped Jacob in other ways. The pair struck up easy conversation, which was just as comforting to Jacob as two days before. He could talk about his life, the one before all this mess and the one he still hoped he might return to, and Sam listened or contributed his own stories.  
  
He didn't treat Jacob like a  _monster._  
  
It was mid afternoon before Jacob had to give in and take the last crates of produce that he had from his bag for a late lunch. It made a passable meal, though anyone could tell it was sparse for someone Jacob's size.  
  
"Think Dean's gotten into trouble yet?" he asked, glancing at the sky to see how mature the afternoon was. The sooner the sun set, the sooner they could all move on again.  
  
“Dean was born in trouble,” Sam mumbled absently, flipping a page in the book. He distantly hoped that Bobby had found more information than they had. Aside from the “fee, fie, fo, fum” stories that littered the world, there wasn’t much lore to go on. Bobby had books that reached back to ancient times, and Sam was banking on there being information in those.  
  
Despite the fact that he was a giant bigger than most buildings, Jacob had turned out to be less of a distraction during research than Dean when he was bored. Though Dean was fantastic at finding the most obscure lore out there, he had a short attention span to just sit down and study for the night.  
  
Which usually ended with Dean searching for entertainment, and Sam could remember at least one time while they were growing up where he’d dodged spitballs instead of studying for his exam the following day.  
  
Sam glanced briefly up at Jacob, then turned back to his research. “I think he’s grabbing stuff for you, anyway,” he said. “Or, y’know. Hitting up a diner. Hopefully not making a scene out there.”  
  
Jacob chuckled quietly, though the sound was still a loud rumble to everything around him. The leaves rattled from the sound. "I guess if he is, we'll be skipping out of here once it gets dark anyway," he dismissed.  
  
They fell silent again, the rustle of paper joining the sounds of birds and squirrels and Jacob's own loud breathing. Jacob watched the pages of Sam's tiny books turning, one after the other, and wished he could be more help than just sitting there.  
  
When the sky began to change color, Jacob had to sit up straight to stretch his back. He rolled his broad shoulders and watched the sky above for a second before glancing back down to Sam. He reached down cautiously to nudge one of the books next to the hunter curiously. "I'm kinda impressed your eyes aren't tired yet. Should we watch for Dean?"  
  
Sam glanced up at the sky to see the splash of color staining the horizon, then checked his watch. “Might as well,” he agreed and started to collect the growing pile of books around him. To the side was their maps, and Sam had charted a path to Bobby’s that avoided metropolitan areas with a vengeance. They couldn’t come close to any towns without the risk of Jacob being seen, either by a car on the road or from the window of a house. The path Sam had found wound its way through the fields and backhills between those towns.  
  
Once they got to Bobby’s, keeping Jacob out of sight would be simpler than on their impromptu road trip. Bobby lived miles from his neighbors, with a junkyard full of cars and a field behind  _that_. Aside from the occasional business the junkyard pulled in, the reclusive older hunter was left on his own, at least as far as the town was concerned.   
  
As for other hunters, that was a whole other deal, and Sam hoped that Vincent and his buddies wouldn’t think of looking for them there. Not many people knew who Bobby associated with. He was stingy on information that wasn’t ‘need to know,’ with anyone but the Winchesters, who’d known him since childhood.  
  
“Think you can give me a hand with all this?” Sam asked as he stuffed the books into his bag and sent a sideways glance at the tent supplies.  
  
"No problem," Jacob said before lowering his hands back to the miniature objects near Sam. He scooped the tent bag onto his curled fingers with a faint metallic clatter as the poles banged against each other. Carrying camping supplies was a lot easier at this size, at least.  
  
"Hop on if you want," he added, leaving his hand close to the ground. "There's room and it's a pretty good shortcut."  
  
“Right,” Sam muttered to himself as he pushed a thick tome into his bag. It barely fit, and he still had another five scattered around.  
  
Opting for the quick way, he tossed his bag onto Jacob’s hand to join the tent, then gathered up the remaining books he’d checked out from the library the other day. That trip out of the state park for research felt like a lifetime ago. Being followed by Vincent, the confrontation between the hunters, and their rapid flight from the forest all merged into what felt like one long bad dream. They’d made another enemy that day, Sam was sure.  
  
Sam checked the area briefly to confirm that he had everything, then scrambled up onto Jacob’s hand to join everything else. “Ready when you are,” he confirmed with Jacob. “Let’s go see if Dean made it through the day without us.” He grinned wryly at the joke.  
  
Jacob smirked back, and then made sure Sam and all of the clutter had settled before lifting his hand again. He was figuring out the best ways to move without jostling the people who willingly put themselves on his hands; the last thing he wanted was to let them down when they trusted him so readily.  
  
"I bet he managed. Just enough," Jacob quipped as he started the awkward walk back towards the road. Since the sun was still up and a road was so near, he didn't feel safe standing above the trees. He made sure to shield Sam from any ambitious branches with his free hand as he went, like he was guarding a candle.  
  
He stopped when the road was in sight but with several trees still acting as a buffer for him. Jacob listened and watched for several seconds before remembering to lower Sam to the ground so he could do his own vigil for the Impala.  
  
Sam slid off and landed on the ground, hunkering down next to the bushes. He wasn’t sure why he bothered. No one was going to spot Sam Winchester when there was an entire giant looming over the area. He shook his head ruefully as he pulled his map back out.  
  
Time passed at a crawl while they waited, but the sky was just losing the last vestiges of light when a familiar purr could be heard in the distance. Sam perked up, knowing there was only one car that could sound like that after the constant attention and affection Dean showered on the Impala. Sam had a feeling that by the time this case was over, she’d be getting detailed all over again.  
  
By the time Dean parked, Sam strolled out of the underbrush. “Almost ready to get this show on the road?” Dean cracked as he opened the back door. “Got some supplies for Jacob before we move. It’s not much, but it’ll help hold him over until we get to Bobby’s.”  
  
Sam came around and grinned. In the backseat of the car were four massive, five-gallon water bottles that were used to fill office water dispensers. Dean already had one out as he reached them, and started to saw at the top with a machete. It wouldn’t be much, but there was a stream not far from Bobby’s house if they could just get Jacob there.  
  
Jacob hadn't realized how long it had been since he'd had a chance at water until he saw what Dean brought him. They hadn't paused by any lakes since walking the night before, and he'd spent the entire day sitting and occasionally dozing in the same spot.  
  
"This'll be enough for now," he said gratefully, setting down the bags and books on his hand as gently as he could. Once the first water bottle was ready, Jacob carefully pinched it in his thumb and first finger to take a drink.  
  
Even with his assurances, the water was gone before he wanted it to be. Jacob didn't say a word, but instead glanced up the road from where he crouched just at the edge of the treeline. He was weary, but they had many miles to go. It was lucky his strides could cover so much ground. "Ready when you are."  
  
The brothers spent the next few minutes loading up the car and stuffing the remaining camping supplies in the trunk. Dean grumbled to himself as he tried his best to shift the tent poles so they didn't cover the false bottom that held all of their weapons in a hidden compartment. If there was an emergency, they couldn't risk those weapons being out of swift reach.  
  
Dean leaned out the window and beckoned Jacob to follow. "If we keep up the same pace that we had yesterday, we should reach Bobby's early in the morning!" he called over his shoulder. "If you need to hide, try and stay in one place and we'll come find you! Don't move until then."  
  
With that, they were off. The blacktop of the highway flew under the tires of the Impala, eating up miles as fast as Jacob could follow. With his sweeping stride, he could keep up with a car on the road with minimal effort. It was good that he was used to hiking and prepared for the journey.  
  
That conditioning proved useful as the night darkened and the miles fell away behind them. Jacob kept up with the Impala by following the purr of the engine, and found something to focus on when he grew tired. He had to stifle more than a few yawns, but they were getting somewhere. The land began to flatten around them and Jacob was little more than a dark shape against the sky.  
  
Sometime past midnight, Jacob was watching the Impala's tail lights when one of his steps met unexpected resistance. He was too tired to slow himself down in time, and suddenly the air filled with the heartstopping sound of metal squealing and glass shattering.  
  
Jacob stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide, and his heart rate ramping up by the second. He'd stepped on a  _car._  He was certain he hadn't seen any headlights or heard a second motor running, but suddenly he pictured someone driving around recklessly, maybe drunk, and swerving their way into the path of a giant.  
  
"Oh, God," he blurted, unable to stop himself before shutting his mouth again and looking down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick and sniffly and I blame hubby and his retail job that exposes him to customers constantly. I wouldn't be sick if I just got to stay in my cubicle. 
> 
> **Next:** September 23rd, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	23. Bobby Singer and the Polite Giant

Inside the Impala, the only thing that alerted Sam that something was wrong was the sudden lack of rumbles through the ground or the constant cadence of footsteps from behind them.  
  
“Hold up,” Sam said, shooting a hand over to grab Dean’s arm. The Impala screeched to a stop, her brakes keening a warning at Dean’s heavy-booted handling.  
  
Up until then the night had gone the way they wanted it to. Careful planning and a horde of maps led them away from any metropolitan areas, and if they spotted the dim glow of houses in the distance they steered away as soon as there was another turn off. With soft rock playing in the background and the only light in the car the glow of Sam’s flashlight as he read off the names of roads for Dean, it was almost enough to lull Sam to sleep. That is, if he didn’t have to keep an eye out for Jacob.  _Someone_  had to make sure he stayed behind them and Dean didn’t have enough attention to spare from the road to keep a constant eye out.  
  
“What?” Dean complained, thinking Sam was blaming him for something.  
  
Until he saw the look on Sam’s face.  
  
The distant earthquakes were gone, and though neither brother had heard the impact of Jacob’s boot against the flattened car, it was obvious something was wrong.  
  
The Impala revved into a hasty u-turn, and accelerated towards where Jacob’s shadowy figure could be made out, hunched over something. Sam’s mouth went dry when he saw what it was as the headlights illuminated the ground in front of Jacob.  
  
He barely waited for Dean to put the car in park before leaping out, leaving Dean swearing at his reckless behavior. Sam jogged over to the flattened metal mass. “Oh no,” he said, dropping to his knees so he could try and see if there were any remains inside.  
  
Dean slammed his door shut and stalked over. “What the hell happened?!” he fumed, glaring up at Jacob.  
  
Jacob's eyes remained on the crushed car, squashed like a pop can at the side of the road. His gale-like breaths came in quick bursts and his hands twitched before lifting to push through his hair. "I don't... I didn't..."  
  
 _Did I just kill someone?_  
  
The headlights lit up the scattered dust that used to be a windshield. Jacob's chest felt tight and panic rose like bile in his throat; there was no fixing this one. He'd been careless and crushed an entire car with one errant step. It was power no one was prepared to have.  
  
"I didn't see it, I swear its lights were off and everything," he insisted, finally looking at Dean. "I didn't mean it," he added, knowing in the back of his mind that if there were people squashed in that car, it would never be enough. He was too dangerous and he'd just proven it yet again.   
  
Sam kept well clear of the glass that splintered outwards from the car as he crept forward, shining his flashlight into what was left of the windows. The beam caught on the metal and was reflected back at him, but he relaxed.  
  
No blood splatters, no gory remains. Just metal ground flat by more power than a car was able to handle.  
  
“No one was inside,” Sam called back to his brother and Jacob. He reached forward and picked up one of the larger shards of glass. On it was scribbled a message.  _\--formation, please call 605-99--_  
  
“Looks like it was left on the side of the road for sale,” Sam said, passing the glass back for Dean to look it over. He gave the backseat a cursory glance as well, and then stood and backed off from the car. “No one got hurt.”  
  
“This time,” Dean growled, flinging the glass back into the wreck. “But what about next time?” He rounded on Jacob and jabbed a finger at the teenager. “You need to be more careful when you’re walking,” he said, building up a head of steam on his tirade. “What if it was just pulled off to the side of the road so the driver can take a nap?” Dean couldn’t count the number of times he or Sam had done just that on a long haul across the US to reach a new case. They couldn’t always afford a motel when they needed one. “The people in the car wouldn’t even know what hit them!”  
  
Jacob waited until the last echoes of Dean's yelling died out, and then gave it a few more seconds. His eyes were wide as he stared down at the incensed hunter, and they stung. The truth hurt and he didn't have anything to counter it. "I-I know," he muttered, words still rumbling over their heads.  
  
He glanced over the mess he'd made of the car and couldn't find much relief that no one was in there.  _This time_ echoed in his head in that angry voice and Jacob felt as monstrous as ever. He couldn't do anything about his size, and he was beginning to think no one could and that he should have just stayed in the mountains. At least there he had a chance of avoiding stuff like this.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't think of it and I should have. Maybe I should just ..." he trailed off to avert his gaze and look around them. The land was flat and the mountains were far behind. Jacob didn't have anywhere to go now but wherever they told him to go, and out here he risked hurting more people. The open plains had never made him feel so stuck before.  
  
“Look, no one got hurt, and Jacob knows to be more careful now,” Sam soothed, sending Jacob and Dean both a look of their own. He knew if Dean got on a rant, there was no hope getting him off it, especially not after already having a chance to build up to it. Jacob, on the other hand, needed reassurance. “We’re only an hour out from Bobby’s here if we keep up the same pace as we’ve been going at. Once you’re there, you won’t have to worry about where you’re going so much.”  
  
“But  _don’t_  step on any of Bobby’s cars,” Dean interjected, unhappy about the way Sam had derailed his rant.  
  
“Dude, they’re  _wrecks._  He owns a junkyard!”  
  
Dean tossed up his arms to Sam’s argument. “Tell that to him then! He almost flayed me alive the last time I smashed a windshield that didn’t belong to the Impala.” He stalked back to the car and slammed the door shut.  
  
Sam sent one last look at the car. “At least it’s an old car,” he said as optimistically as he could manage. He pushed himself up from the ground with a grunt. “Just a little farther, and then Bobby will be able to help us figure this out. We  _will_  find a way to get you back to normal.” He followed Dean back and got into the car, leaving his window down.  
  
"Yeah," Jacob said wearily, watching the Impala for a second more before rising back to his feet. "Thanks." The other car quickly dwindled out of sight as the Impala pulled away once more, but Jacob could still hear its destruction playing on loop in his head. He'd cost someone a few hundred bucks on their sale this time, but what about next time?  
  
Despite his exhaustion and the discouraging thought that it was  _so easy_  for him to wreck anything he came across, Jacob followed the Impala's tail lights with more diligent focus than before. He almost fell behind once or twice as he placed his steps more slowly, chose his path more carefully.  
  
By the time the pinprick lights of Sioux Falls came into view, Jacob's nerves were frayed. He wasn't sure what he'd do about an entire yard of cars. A heavy sigh gusted out of his chest and he dragged a hand down his face. They were nearly there and he'd be able to sort out the answer then.  
  


* * *

  
Bobby lay in an uneasy sleep in his house, the covers twisted around his legs from the way he tossed and turned almost constantly.  
  
The night was growing old before his sleep was disrupted. The outside world began to lighten, a grey cast falling over the junkyard. Morning dew precipitated on the blades of grass that surrounded the old wrecks in the yard, and glistened on the rusting metal bodies. The birds were just waking, an occasional song heard across the field behind Bobby’s house as they roused their neighbors.  
  
Slowly, a shuddering rumble through the house pulled Bobby from his unsettled dreams and he woke with a gasp. Hunter instincts yanked him to full waking in seconds, the gun under his pillow in his hands and pointing at nothing before his eyes were fully open.  
  
There was nothing there, and Bobby grumbled to himself as he shoved the gun back into hiding. Then, he realized what  _had_  woken him, as another shudder rocked the house. It wasn’t enough to knock the photos from his shelves, but it made itself known like a small-scale earthquake.  
  
Groaning, Bobby pried himself out of bed and shuffled to the window. A car could be seen crawling its way up his long driveway, the headlights and purring engine as familiar as his own car. Behind it, there was a dark shadow. Bobby rubbed his eyes and blinked to make sure of what he was looking at, then cursed under his breath.  
  
Jacob was  _big._  
  
Bigger than Bobby had thought, and bigger than the ancient texts had lead him to believe possible. Someone was really pulling out all the stops with this one.  
  
Grabbing his boots, he sat on the bed to shove them on. There would be no more sleeping tonight.  
  


* * *

  
“Don’t move!” Dean shot over his shoulder at Jacob as Sam lifted his hand to knock on Bobby’s front door.  
  
Jacob flinched, but hadn't planned on going anywhere anyway. He glanced around him at the shapes of junked cars coming into view as the sun rose. It was like a minefield for him, but at least he could be more assured that no one would be in these old metal husks.  
  
He remained where he was while the sound of Sam knocking echoed over the lot. After a long night of walking and fretting about stepping on another damn car, Jacob was too worn out to even  _want_  to move around.  
  
Instead, he crouched low enough to pretend he would be harder to see. One hand lowered to the ground, settling over the driveway itself for lack of anywhere else to put it without leaning on a car. He held himself up like that and watched the tiny door of the house curiously.  
  
The knocks had faded before any sound came from inside the house. Sam took a step back to stand next to Dean as the door opened with a creaking protest. Bobby stood there in his hat, looking as composed as he ever did. It could be three in the afternoon for all the difference it made for the older hunter. He was more alert than anyone despite having just crawled out of bed. Not that any of them would ever know.  
  
“Boys,” he greeted, eyebrows pinching together in concern. It took him only a second to spot where Jacob was crouched over the yard in an attempt to hide. “Looks like we’ve got some catchin’ up to do since we talked.”  
  
“It’s been a long night,” Sam said with a tired smile.  
  
Bobby stepped past the Winchesters and sized Jacob up from head to toe. “I take it you’re Jacob Andris, the victim of this giant curse.” He held out a hand. “Name’s Bobby Singer.”  
  
Jacob stared at the offered hand in surprise. "Uh. Yeah, Jacob Andris, that's me," he answered, shifting where he crouched. The hand that wasn't planted and holding him up lifted slightly and then paused. A handshake seemed like such a weird gesture with the size difference between them. This hunter wouldn't be able to cover his fingertip with an entire hand.  
  
"Good to meet you," he mumbled awkwardly in spite of the novelty of the situation. His hand lowered towards the others until he could take his thumb and first finger and place them carefully around the outstretched hand. "Curse victim and all. Sorry to drop in unexpectedly."   
  
  
Bobby pumped his hand up and down in a facsimile of a handshake, well-aware that the only reason he could move his arm was because Jacob went along with it. Dean could talk big all he wanted, it was obvious Jacob had the power between them all.  
  
He took a quick second to stare at the fingers his hand was pinched between before pulling it away. Compared to the accounts he’d found of other giants in history, Jacob was even bigger. Someone Jacob’s size could be a huge boon if there was a war, but feeding a guy like that would drain resources quickly, so the accounts of giants ranging in size to around twenty feet made more sense.  
  
“Don’t mention it,” Bobby said gruffly as he took his hand back. “I’m given to understand that the only person we have marked as missing was because  _you_  got hit with this thing and had to run.”  
  
Sam bobbed his head and stepped up next to Bobby. “The only people he ever ‘attacked,’ ” he said dryly, “was me and Dean, and all he did was stick us in a tree so we wouldn’t come after him.”  
  
“Vince too,” Dean chimed in.  
  
Bobby gave them all a long, piercing look. “You really know how to stick your hands in it, dontcha?” he sighed. “Vince ain’t happy with how things are panning out. He was calling  _me_  earlier on today… last night, with demands that I tell him the best way to kill off a giant. Seems he thinks you two are the giant’s helpers now.”  
  
“What did you tell him?” Dean demanded.  
  
“Nothin’ much,” Bobby said. “Just told him I’d look into things and get back. We’ve got a ticking time clock before someone figures out the ‘Sam and Dean’ he ran into back there are the Winchesters, and it won’t be long after that we’ve got hunters sniffing around my house since they know  _I_  talk to you boys.”  
  
He turned to Jacob and sized him up. “Now, I’ve got plenty of room in the field out back,” he said sternly. “There’s a stream just past it if you need to drink. Me an’ Dean will run out and scrounge up some food for ya, and Sam’s gonna stick around here to research. I found a few good leads on giants, and we might have a cure for it if it’s the same thing. Sam, the books are on the table. Give us a holler if you need anything while we’re out.” Bobby gestured at the junkyard for Jacob. “Watch your feet when you walk. They’re wrecks, but useful wrecks when you need to scavenge car parts.”  
  
Jacob glanced around at the scrapyard and nodded mutely. He didn't need to be told twice, after the close call earlier. He could still hear the lecture in the back of his mind, reminding him of what would have happened if there had been a person in the car he smashed. Jacob could do serious damage without ever intending to.  
  
"Thanks for letting me stay here," he said, turning his weary gaze back to the three hunters down on the ground. Three people who, in most cases, would be shooting at him and asking questions never, and somehow they were helping him instead. He could only hope that kind of luck would stick around for him.  
  
Before pushing himself to a stand, he paused to glance back towards the road. The last thing they needed was for someone to spot him here after they all came so far to find him a safe place. "I'll head back there now," he told them, "probably to sleep but just shout at me if you need anything."  
  
Then, he stood and they seemed to dwindle away like always. Keeping to what Bobby had said, Jacob placed his devastatingly heavy steps as carefully as he could to sidle around the house and navigate the scrapyard. He shot the trio of tiny hunters one last glance before they passed out of sight for him.  
  
The trees back behind Bobby's house weren't as thick or as tall as back in the mountains, but they were all Jacob had. He ducked gratefully among them to get out of sight. After all the walking and the minor almost-disasters that came with it, he was more than willing to sit in wait for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next:** September 26th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Getting over my cold, starting to feel more alive again.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	24. The Secret Visitor

Bobby watched as Jacob vanished into the distance. The footsteps that rattled the house faded to nothing and left behind an oppressive silence that filled the air.  
  
“He seems to be doin’ better than most would,” Bobby said to himself thoughtfully as he turned back to Sam and Dean.  
  
Sam nodded at that. “None of it’s changed who he is the way turning into a vampire or werewolf would, from what we’ve seen.”  
  
“Strange though. The accounts I’ve read always talk about giants giving into their primal emotions.”  
  
Sam’s eyebrows rose sharply. “You found lore?”  
  
Bobby gestured towards the door. “A few books datin’ back to when the Bible was bein’ written. It’s an old curse, if he’s got what I think.” It was easy to see that Sam was itching to get his hands on the books. “Look, we’ll run out and grab some grub for Jacob. How ‘bout you hang around here and read up on what I’ve found, make sure I’m not missin’ anythin.’ "  
  
There wasn’t much argument to be had from Sam, and Dean followed Bobby down the steps of his house to the old blue pickup truck that was parked in the yard close to Dean’s Impala.  
  
“What did you have in mind?” Dean asked, his brow furrowed as he got in the truck next to Bobby. “Last time we found food for Jake, I had to lift a grocery truck.”  
  
“I heard  _all_  about that one,” Bobby said grimly. “Next time, you think you can hide the evidence away from where you park the Impala? Vincent’s convinced the driver of that truck got  _fed_  to the giant.”  
  
Dean opened his mouth to defend their decisions and Bobby cut him off with a sharp gesture. “You think you’re the only one with a plan? There’s a food warehouse up in Sioux Falls. They supply in bulk to restaurants. All we gotta do is order what we need.”  
  
A cloud of dust rose behind the truck as it rolled down the driveway, leaving Sam and the Impala back at the house.  
  


* * *

  
Sam spent most of his time in the library, but he did pay a quick visit to the bathroom to dunk his head in the sink and wash up. They’d been in the wilderness away from the motel room they’d rented for days. It felt good to get some of the grime scrubbed from his skin.  
  
There wasn’t time for more than a cursory cleaning, though, and Sam settled down at the table with a glass of water and a granola bar, absently snacking as he read over what Bobby had discovered. His brow furrowed. This was some heavy stuff they were dealing with if Bobby was right.  
  
Time passed absently, only given away by the shifting direction of the sunlight that spilled into the library. Motes of dust swirled into the air every time Sam turned the page of his book, a crinkle of old paper the only sound.  
  
He kept an ear out for Jacob, listening to the background noise and hoping the teenager had found a good place to rest.  
  
Hours after Bobby and Dean had left in the pickup truck, Sam found a passage in the book he was reading. He leapt up, his eyes hungrily scanning the words to be sure of what he’d read.  
  
The distant sound of an engine clued him in on their return, and Sam tossed the door of the house open to greet them.  
  
In the back of the pickup truck was shoved as much food as they could fit. Bobby swung himself out of the cab. “This oughta help hold him over until the rest comes,” he announced to Sam as he strode up the path, then frowned. “What’s got you all excited?”  
  
“So get this,” Sam said, hurrying down the path. “I found more information on the old curses like this, and it  _can_  be broken!” His triumph shone in his eyes. Dean snatched the book out of his hands. “We just need to find…”  
  
“The blood of the caster,” Dean read off the page. “Right.  _Simple._ ”  
  


* * *

  
Jacob found a space close to the stream to lie low. After a night of walking, his legs and feet thanked him for a chance to rest, and he doubted he'd be going anywhere again for some time. The nearby city and the hunters' wariness would both keep him in place.  
  
It was nice, at least. The ground was flatter than back in Colorado. South Dakota was closer to his home, with the sky like a dome overhead if he were to stand up.  
  
Instead, Jacob shrugged his bag off of his shoulders and set it among some sturdier trees, breaking some low branches in the process. Squirrels and birds scolded him fiercely or scrambled away, pointedly disapproving of his intrusion.  
  
 _Sorry, guys. I don't like it either._  
  
He lay down with one arm under his head, and tried to stay at least partially curled. He still took up the space of several houses, but at least he put less strain on the surrounding trees. Jacob heaved a sigh that caused some branches and leaves to whip in the breeze and closed his eyes.  
  
Sleep came quickly for him, but it only lasted around thirty minutes before he heard a sound.  
  
A snapped twig, then a rustle, and then a splash drew him out of sleep and Jacob pushed himself up enough to look around. At first, he thought that maybe Sam or Dean or Bobby had come to tell him something. Then, he heard a quiet sound mixing with the rushing water of the stream.  
  
His gaze shot downwards to find a person not ten feet from him, sitting in the stream bed. It was only a  _kid,_  he realized, with grubby shorts and a shirt with splashes of color on it. The little girl's pigtails were mussed and she sat in the water with both hands clamped over her knee, but she stared with wide, teary eyes up at Jacob.  
  
"Woah, hey," he murmured, slowly lowering his head again so he didn't loom over her. One tiny hand left her knee in a flicker of movement to brush at her eyes before clamping over it again.  
  
"Y-y-you, y-you're a  _giant,_ " she pointed out. The stream wasn't deep at all, so he could still see her clearly, and she actually seemed more upset about her knee than about how close she sat to a giant.  
  
"I am," he admitted in a quiet voice. "And you're all wet. Did you slip?"  
  
He kept thinking the hunters would come running to drag the little girl away from him, to keep her safe from his potentially dangerous movements. They didn't come, and Jacob was on his own with the tiniest kid he'd ever seen. She couldn’t be any older than ten.  
  
She shook her head, and then sheepishly nodded. "I-I was ... sneaking up on you ..." she admitted.  
  
Jacob offered her a tentative smile. "You were? I think it worked. Looks like you might have banged yourself up, though," he replied. With his free hand, he took a chance to slowly lower it towards the stream so he could point at her knee that she so diligently covered with her hands.  
  
His fingertip, bigger than her head, was only a few feet away from her, and she stared at it in more awe than terror. Something about the innocent wonder on her face lifted Jacob's tired, weary spirits.  
  
When she looked past his hand to his face again, though, she was frowning again. "I hit it on a rock," she told him, lower lip pouting and quivering. If Jacob didn't pay attention, he'd miss it.  
  
"Let's get you out of the stream first, okay?" he said gently. His voice was quieter than he'd ever managed to make it, but there was no chance of her missing it. Once she nodded, Jacob's hand closed the distance.  
  
He pinched his thumb and first finger around her little waist, and she removed her hands from the forming bruise on her knee as he lifted her from the gently rushing water. Jacob set her down on the dry ground opposite the stream from himself and his hand retreated hastily.  
  
She didn't make a peep. Instead, she sat propped on her hands and stared at his huge hand.  
  
"That's gotta be better, right?" he prompted.  
  
She nodded, and then, like kids are prone to do, checked on her bruise with all the seriousness she could muster. "My daddy's gonna need to get me a ice pack," she determined.  
  
"That sounds like a good idea," Jacob said. "I think you should go and get one from him, okay?"  
  
She got to her feet with a wince. Her teeth bothered her lower lip as she tested putting weight on her injured leg. Once accomplished, she gave him a hopeful look. "Can I come back and talk after, mister giant?"  
  
Jacob smiled and remained where he was lying down to avoid startling the trusting child. "I don't think so," he told her. Before she could sling her protests at him, he put one finger in front of his lips. She mimicked the motion with wide, surprised eyes. "I need to stay quiet out here, and my friends wouldn't want you getting in trouble, okay?"  
  
"I can play quietly!" she insisted, then closed her mouth and pursed her lips.  
  
Jacob chuckled. "I bet you can. But if someone else finds out this is where you're coming, then other people will find out I'm here, right? There are some people who are  _scared_  of giants and they might try to ... take me away," he explained, sparing the kid the details.  
  
She looked worried and glanced over her shoulder. "So you're a secret," she surmised. Jacob nodded, and the girl drew herself up proudly. "O-okay. I can keep a secret, I'm not a snitch like Paul at school!"  
  
"I'm really glad," Jacob answered, his smile lingering. "You go get your ice pack, okay?"  
  
The girl sighed, still looking disappointed. She stared at him for a few seconds more before turning and jogging away between the trees. Jacob saw her look back several times before she passed out of sight.  
  
He settled himself once more. If that girl kept her earnest promise, the Winchesters might never realize that Jacob ran into someone else.  
  


* * *

  
The sun was dipping down in the sky by the time someone else was picking their way through the forest to where Jacob was ensconced. Signs of a hot, dry summer showed in the crunch of underbrush under Sam’s boots, but the sound of the stream was as strong as ever. When he was a kid, he’d hide out back here whenever he could get away from John, and sometimes Dean for the days Dean was stolidly on John’s side. Weapons practice and training were never high on Sam’s list of ‘things to do,’ but now he recognized how necessary it had been for the brothers. Without that training it wasn’t likely they would still be alive by now.  
  
Pushing his way past the last few small saplings in his way, Sam brightened as he spotted Jacob stretched out along the ground just the way they’d told him to wait. Out of sight, and away from anyone who could call the authorities or other hunters. With an end in sight, Sam didn’t want to risk losing their chance to save Jacob.  
  
With Madison those weeks ago, they’d  _found_  an answer, but it was the one time the lore had failed them. Severing the bloodline of a werewolf was not a cure, and they’d found out the hard way when she’d escaped Sam. A cold spot formed in his chest as he remembered her last moments,  _begging_  them to end it for her. To stop her from hurting anyone else.  
  
Jacob  _wouldn’t_  come to the same end, Sam reaffirmed to himself as he waved. There was always a way, and even Dean had hope of it working.  
  
“Hey!” he called out, breaking the silence of the forest in an attempt to catch Jacob’s attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sweetest teddy to ever get turned into a giant
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Next:** September 30th, 2018 at 9pm est


	25. A Dose of Chaos

Jacob was too sluggish to startle awake completely, but the call did bring him to awareness faster than usual. His eyes opened and his shoulders tensed in the first second of not knowing where he was. The arm he'd rested on tingled from low circulation, so he had to use his other hand to push himself up.  
  
He scanned his surroundings with exhausted eyes, and it took him a few seconds to actually spot Sam. When he did, he smiled tiredly. "Hey, Sam," he greeted.  
  
Not seeing the others nearby, Jacob thought it was safe to push himself up the rest of the way so he sat. The trees arched overhead, but he still had to hunch to keep out of sight. He flexed the fingers of his still-sleeping hand and tried to ignore the pang in his stomach. The lack of consistent food was probably to blame for his lingering fatigue, but he'd take care of it when he could.  
  
"Looks like I slept most of the day away," he murmured when he noticed the color of the sky beyond the leaves. He rubbed at his eyes once more before giving Sam a sheepish grin. "Figure anything out?"  
  
Sam nodded. “We’ve got a good idea of what’s going on with you now, and we might have a way to get you back to normal.”  
  
He took a step back and gestured for Jacob to lower a hand, unconcerned by his proximity to the giant. “I can fill you in once we get back if you want. Bobby and Dean got some supplies for you but we can’t get the pickup truck this deep in the forest. They’re waiting just outside in the field. Bobby found some good info for us, I’ve just been going over it to double check.”  
  
That lifted Jacob's mood. "All of that sounds awesome." His shoulders lifted from the usual slump and he had a hopeful look in his eyes as he offered Sam a hand.  
  
He might be getting used to that feeling of tiny boots walking onto his palm, but he had a way out. He could be  _normal_  again. He made sure Sam was secure, as always, before curling his fingers slightly and lifting the hunter away from the ground.  
  
Opting to leave his backpack where it was for now, Jacob got his feet under himself to start the trek back to the edge of the woods. What might take Sam a while only took him a few minutes, and the trees shook with each step to warn Dean and Bobby of his approach.  
  
With the edge in sight, he lowered his hand yet again for Sam to step down, and knelt just within the treeline to see what the others had brought.  
  
The old blue pickup truck was sitting a dozen feet from the edge of the forest, clear tracks behind it showing the path the hunters had forged through the field. Dean was leaning on the side of the truck, arms crossed and disgruntled over running errands the entire day with Bobby as the taskmaster.  
  
Bobby was standing right in front of the car, eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight of Sam calmly getting down from Jacob’s hand. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when Sam volunteered to drag Jacob back out of the forest, but that certainly wasn’t it.  
  
Dean slapped the side of the truck, making the door to the truck bed fall open. “All food courtesy of Singer Catering!” he cracked with a wide grin at Bobby’s newest deception they’d pulled at the food warehouse.  
  
Jacob's eyes skated over the overladen truckbed. His hunger reared its head and demanded that he retrieve the food there as soon as he could, but he held himself back. His battle to avoid intimidating everyone was always uphill; he had to be careful how quickly he moved when one errant motion could knock a car over.  
  
"That looks awesome," he said gratefully. He leaned down on his hands to put himself at a closer level to the people on the ground, and still felt like he loomed. There was no getting away from it. "Sam also told me your books had something that might help, so, thanks for that, too," he told Bobby. "Just let me know if there's something I can do to help pull my own weight."  
  
“I think I’ll let Sam do the honors here,” Bobby said. He and Dean stepped away from the truck to give Jacob space, flanking Sam on either side. “He’s the one who’s been fact checkin’ all day since we left.”  
  
Sam had a wry grin on his face, since Bobby had done all the legwork of the research before they even got to the house, but he didn’t waste any time leaping into the facts.  
  
“You have to go way back in history,” Sam said. “Back in the days of the Old Testament. Giants used to be seen in those days, often against the people of the Bible. Take David and Goliath, for example. Giants like that would lead the armies against their foes.  
  
“Giants are seen as those who bring chaos. They stood for the natural order and fought against the structures that man created. This is why they were wiped out whenever they appeared. The source of the giants, however, is a spell, cast by a pagan priest.”  
  
“A priest of chaos,” Dean chimed in helpfully.  
  
Sam shot him a glare for being interrupted on his speech. “Right. And the spell itself is supposed to enhance any inner anger. It’s designed to make a person lash out at the people they used to love. In ancient times they’d harness that anger and turn it on their foes. Now, we’re not sure  _why_  the spell was cast, but we do know that you weren’t supposed to vanish into the forest. Whoever did this wanted destruction.”  
  
He gestured up at Jacob’s looming form. “There should be a mark on your body that proves this is the spell that was used.” Sam pointed at his back, between the shoulderblades. “A brand.”  
  
Jacob frowned with concern. One hand reached cautiously up to the back of his neck and slid past the hem of his shirt. When his fingertips brushed across the smooth, barely-stinging skin where he was indeed branded, the others could see the surprise overtake his face. His hand retreated hastily. He never would have noticed such a thing if Sam hadn't told him about it.  
  
"O-okay, so, that's there," he confirmed unnecessarily. His voice rumbled overhead, though he tried to keep it down for their benefit. "And... inner anger?" He pursed his lips thoughtfully. Aside from frustration with building a campfire once or twice, Jacob hadn't really had any angry moments since he grew.  
  
Mostly he'd felt fear and uncertainty and loneliness. But not anger. "I guess that's one bit of good luck, I try to stay chill most of the time."  
  
“That’s good,” Sam said, internally musing that they were all lucky the curse had gone for Jacob instead of most everyone else. Anger hovered close to the surface for most hunters; they needed to use it when they hunted. It could focus them and turn them into a weapon.  
  
However, anger like that also meant it could be turned on themselves. It was self destructive and could drag a person down into a dark hole they couldn’t climb out of.  
  
“Hold onto that,” Sam said absently. “If you get angry, you might end up like the giants of legend. We need a few more ingredients to finish off the cure, and then the blood of the person who cursed you.”  
  
"How are we going to get  _that?_ " Jacob asked before he could stop himself. As far as they knew, the person who did this to him could be anywhere. They didn't stick around to see what might have become of him, and they'd heard nothing about something like this happening to someone else recently. "Does that mean ..." he knew the answer, and so the question died before he asked it. If they couldn't find the guy, they were at a dead end.  
  
He took a breath and tried a hopeful grin. After all the work they'd already done, it wouldn't help to worry about that now. "Guess that's why I've got the experts helping me," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Sam soothed. “We’re planning on luring him out. Chances are, he’s going to want to know why his giant didn’t rampage through town after the spell took effect.”  
  
“And when he does, he’s  _ours_ ,” Dean declared, grinding his fist into his other hand. “Our counterspell will put an end to everything he’s ever cast that’s still active, including you.”  
  
“While those two go fetch what we need,” Bobby said, slipping unobtrusively into the conversation, “you’ll stick here with me. I’ve been needing some help around the scrapyard, and I think you’re just what I need.”  
  
Jacob's eyebrows went up and he scanned the scrapyard in the fading sunlight. At first, he couldn't imagine what help he'd be with any of the junked cars. He'd be more likely to tear a salvaged part in half than actually take a car apart properly.  
  
Then, he noticed a pile off to the side of crushed metal, a stack of cars crushed flat by a machine sitting nearby. "I see," he replied, looking back down at the three on the ground. He wondered if the brothers had told Bobby just how qualified he was to crush cars like the ones over there. "At least it's a chance to earn my keep for once."  
  
“If only Dean was as easy to keep out of trouble,” Bobby said in an undertone.   
  
Dean drew himself up indignantly. “I have no  _idea_  what you’re talking about,” he said with a sniff.  
  
Sam had to hide a smirk. “Anyway, that’s the plan,” he said, pulling them back on task. “You’ll stick here with Bobby, we’ll grab what we need. Once we draw this guy out, all we need is some blood and it’s all over. You might as well eat what you can for now. We’ll be heading out in no time.”  
  
Jacob nodded in understanding. He didn't try to keep his hopes down; even with the odds arrayed against him, he was closer than ever to getting back to normal. He might be able to get his life back.  
  
Before he reached for the food they'd brought, his hand lowered to the ground again. With one huge fingertip he nudged at Sam's arm, the closest he could get to a clap on the shoulder. "Thanks, guys. Without you I'd probably just be twiddling my thumbs up in the mountains still."  
  
“We saved you from becoming a hermit in the mountains then,” Sam said, grinning as he slapped the finger away. Jacob was getting good at managing his size, and didn’t even knock Sam a little bit off balance.  
  
“A boring existence like that is now the  _least_  of his problems,” Dean said.  
  
“One week around here is enough for a lifetime,” Sam shot back.  
  
“Alright, are you two gonna stand around here arguin’ all day?” Bobby shooed the brothers away from the truck, getting them started on their way back. “Winchesters. Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile.” He sized Jacob up, narrowing his piercing blue eyes that were shadowed by the grungy old trucker cap he wore. “Don’t know how you made it this long without getting angry, puttin’ up with those two all day an’ night.”  
  
Jacob glanced to the retreating forms of the Winchesters, consigned to walk back to the house thanks to the truck being full of food for Jacob. Even as they went, he got a feeling they were continuing their good-natured banter in voices too quiet for him to hear.  
  
He shrugged and looked back to Bobby. "I dunno. I was just glad to have somebody listening instead of running and screaming," he mused, leaving out the fact that the brothers certainly hadn't started off their interactions that way. Then, "Guess I better have what you brought, since you went through the trouble," he added, thinking that his stomach might start pining at him soon. "Then I can get to work."  
  
Bobby stood out of the way and watched as Jacob took the food they’d brought him. He didn’t flinch at the sight of a giant’s appetite, no more than he flinched at watching the scrapyard dogs fight over any scraps he tossed out the door. It was all too soon before the few offerings were gone, and he knew they’d have to make sure the deliveries from the food warehouse kept coming until they could cure Jacob. No one deserved to starve and waste away, especially not a kid mellow enough to put up with the Winchesters’ bickering without argument.  
  
Once Jacob was done, Bobby and his old pickup truck lead the way back to the scrapyard. The few dogs that had begun to make their homes around the area vanished fast when they felt the echoing earthquake of Jacob’s footsteps, and Bobby felt a tug in his heart for the loss of Rumsfeld a year back. That dog had kept all the others away, guarding the yard against all comers but Bobby (and occasionally Sam and Dean).  
  
The rest of that afternoon was spent with Bobby directing Jacob around. The giant was hard-pressed to keep up with the demands of the much smaller man, and found himself not only crushing cars but also rearranging some of the older rows so Bobby could reach the wrecks that were formerly on the bottom of the piles. In this way, his mind was kept off his own circumstance and he didn’t have the time to fret over the ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes.’  
  


* * *

  
The next few days that passed by were the same. Sam and Dean drove from state to state to gather up the ingredients, slowly amassing their completed stash at Bobby’s house. Each morning, the food warehouse would deliver food to an address given by ‘Singer Catering,’ and Bobby would collect it, sometimes with the help of the Winchesters, sometimes on his own while they were out.  
  
The junkyard dogs watched forlornly as Jacob ate enough food to feed them for a week, and barked happily when they were tossed a few scraps as Bobby allowed it. The giant was kept hidden out back in case any hunters happened by, but from the sound of things over Bobby’s multitude of phones, there was a merry hunt going to find the location of Vincent’s attackers. He’d finally gotten his truck back up and running after being rolled, and was out for blood.  
  
It took three days for the spell ingredients to come together, but they were running out of time and didn’t know it.  
  
A call from some hunters a few towns over had Bobby out of the house one night, realizing if he didn’t come they might bring the party with them and find out what was hidden behind his house. Sam and Dean were left in the house working out the words to the incantation and discussing strategies to draw out Jacob’s attacker.  
  
And Jacob had a visitor.  
  
Soft footsteps through the underbrush near where Jacob was resting for the night went unheard. The browns of the man’s robes served to blend into the dark background, with occasional flickers of other colors seen mixed in. Dark eyes that were almost black stared out of a cowl, and the man raised a clawed hand in the air, mumbling an incantation that sent a pulse radiating outwards.  
  
The brand on Jacob’s neck began to glow, sending a fiery impulse through his body with a hint of command.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun duh...
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Next:** October 3rd, 2018 at 9pm est


	26. The Waking

The brand stung, waking Jacob with a jolt. His eyes shot open and one hand planted on the ground to brace himself as the brand made its presence known in a growing, burning feeling. At first, Jacob didn't even notice the thoughts scratching at the edges of his mind.  
  
Pushing himself up carefully, the trees rustled in the background as he moved past their lower branches. Crouching there where he'd made a temporary home by the stream, he reached back to brush at the mark with his fingertips.  
  
Then, he tensed all of a sudden, a grimace taking over his face. He scanned the area even as insidious, whispering thoughts in a voice that wasn't his own closed in on his mind, trying to force him back. "Wait," he said aloud, before he could stop himself. " _Stop…_ "  
  
And then, like something snapping back, the tension left and so did Jacob's previous worries. Now, his thoughts were far simpler. Primal instincts replaced thought.  
  
Jacob narrowed his eyes at his backpack. From what he remembered, it didn't have anything he needed, so he knocked it aside in frustration. A backpack meant for a giant crashed into a few smaller trees and nearly toppled them, but Jacob didn't care about being quiet anymore. That wasn't important; he was  _bigger,_  so hiding in fear didn't make any sense.  
  
He had to listen to what his instincts told him, because there was no way they could be wrong. They were all he had. The loudest instinct told him that he was hungry, and that if he listened, he could hear footsteps retreating from him, light and trying so hard to keep quiet in the woods.  
  
Still crouched low so he could see beyond the trees and keep an eye out for the source of those steps, Jacob went after it, occasionally swiping aside saplings to see if anything hid behind them.  
  
The cloaked figure stepped back from the giant as he evaded its notice, a look of pleasure crossing his face.  _Now_  things were proceeding the way they were meant.  
  
Soon Sioux Falls would be but a memory.  
  


* * *

  
There was a crash, and Sam jolted up from where he was hunched over a book, reciting the incantation to himself.  
  
“Did you…” he blurted, meeting Dean’s eyes.  
  
Dean was already peering out the window, a scowl on his face. “That means nothin’ good,” he said, intently scrutinizing the still junkyard that stretched out.  
  
Night was just setting in, leaving the car wrecks barely visible from where they were in the house. The field beyond was out of sight, and Dean flinched when another crash came from the forest.  
  
From Jacob’s part of the forest.  
  
“What the hell’s he thinking, makin’ noise like that?” Dean growled, standing.  
  
“Wait.” Sam grabbed his arm and halted him mid-stride. “That might not be Jacob we’re hearing.”  
  
It took a few seconds for understanding to fully sink into Dean’s head, and his brow furrowed. “You think he might have snapped? Finally gone the way of grinding our bones to make bread?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Sam admitted, “but we should be careful. He might not have a choice if the curse is taking over, but we  _can_  still cure him.”  
  
Dean’s scowl deepened. He grabbed the shotgun lying on the ground nearby. “If he gets close to town, we need to stop him by any means necessary.”  
  
Both brothers stared at each other for a long moment, internally battling with the thought of having to take down someone who’d gone through so much and come so close to finding a cure for his curse.  
  
Sam was the first one to break away, letting out a deep sigh of regret. “Only as a last resort,” he said, almost pleading for another way out.  
  
Dean turned away. “We’ll do what we can, Sammy. Just like we always do.”  
  


* * *

  
Night had fallen completely over the field as the brothers crossed it. They ran low to the ground, concealing their passage in the tall grass. Long years of hunting left them fit, and Sam led the way with his longer strides.  
  
Each Winchester held a shotgun at his side, tucked in close to reduce the wind resistance as they ran. If Jacob really  _had_  snapped, they were going to need all the firepower they could get. Sam had left a text with Bobby, praying the older hunter didn’t need the warning but knowing they couldn’t afford to take any chances. There was a flashlight in his other hand, turned off until they reached the treeline.  
  
Sam stopped short when they did. The crashing continued, heedless of anyone hearing it. With a thankful prayer that Bobby’s closest neighbor was several miles away, Sam cupped his hands around his mouth to call out as Dean faded into the shadows a dozen feet away.  
  
“Jacob! Are you okay?!”  
  
With the sound of Sam's voice, the crashing came to a halt. Only a few branches still rustled, snapped and hanging by a thread after Jacob's rough passage through the trees. Just barely out of sight, Jacob paused to stare forward.  
  
He couldn't quite see, but hearing someone crying out gave him a new target to go after. He took a few more steps forward until he could push another smaller tree aside. Finally, he could see the edge of the trees, and, more importantly, the small figure standing there.  
  
 _Sam._  The thought hardly lasted long enough for him to recognize the name, and the tiny, trusting face with the understanding eyes. That didn't matter so much as the fact that Jacob had something in sight other than the trees. His stomach growled in harsh agreement.  
  
Of course, he didn't answer the question Sam had shouted at him. Instead, he stalked forward a few more steps, enough to close the distance and loom at the edges of the trees considering Sam with blank eyes.  
  
Then, with his fingers curled threateningly, Jacob reached for the much smaller man with one hand.  
  
Eyes wide, Sam spotted the shadow lunging out of the trees at him. With only seconds to react, he did the only thing he could and threw himself backwards. At the same time, he snapped the flashlight up and shone it directly into Jacob’s eyes.  
  
Blank and listless compared to the hopeful spark in them the last time Sam had talked to the teenager just that afternoon, they dilated at the unwelcome intrusion of light.  
  
From the darkness that was untouched by the light of Sam’s flashlight, there came a thunderous roar. A warning shot grazed Jacob’s knuckles, close enough to leave the skin raw and red from its passage.  
  
“Better think hard about your next move there, Godzilla!” Dean’s voice rang out.  
  
Jacob's hand flinched back away from Sam and he scowled. His eyes had spots swimming in them from the bright light, but he could still see the new red mark on his already scuffed hands. A shotgun had been fired at him before, and it stung in a more persistent manner than the little handguns they carried.  
  
He  _hated_ shotguns. They were far more annoying.  
  
His gaze whipped to the side, this time with anger boiling over. When he didn't immediately see the source of the voice, Jacob huffed in frustration and knocked the back of his not-recently-injured hand into the trunk of a tree to smack it back and out of the way.  
  
Dean’s next shot was interrupted by the fast movement, and he barely had enough time to dive into a fast dodge before a tree branch dislodged by Jacob’s sweeping attack crashed down on his hiding spot.   
  
Hitting the ground in a roll, Dean cursed as he stumbled to his feet.  
  
“Hey!” Sam called sharply at Jacob. “I’m over here!” He pointed the flashlight at Jacob’s eyes again, trying to draw Jacob away from Dean’s position to give his brother enough time to recover before another attack. If they could keep Jacob off balance long enough, they might be able to find out what was wrong with their normally-gentle friend.  
  
But Sam didn’t raise his shotgun. He still wanted a chance to get through to Jacob, and somehow he knew if he shot at the giant, that chance would be gone.  
  
“C’mon, Jake,” Sam said, his voice steady despite the danger he could feel in the air, “this isn’t you. You’d never attack us like this. We want to  _help,_  remember? You just have to let us.”  
  
If Jacob understood the words, he didn't show that they'd reached him. He held up a hand and squinted to protect himself from the light shining in his eyes; it didn't need to be especially brilliant to contrast sharply with the dark night around them.  
  
Sam's insistence on shining that light in his face meant he still wasn't hiding from him. Jacob wasn't about to complain. It gave him an easier target than Dean.  
  
The ground shook as Jacob planted one hand on the ground, harshly crushing the grass of the field as he finally leaned out of the trees, leaving his cover behind. More rumbles followed as Jacob took a step forward, though he had yet to rise to his full height. He was still determined to catch the Winchesters, and to that end he reached for Sam again, a glare in his eyes for the source of that little light.  
  
Sam danced backwards, keeping the light leveled at Jacob and avoiding the grasping fingers. There was no reaction to his words, but Sam refused to give up hope of reaching their friend inside the monster.  
  
" _Jacob,_ " Sam said, reinforcing Jacob's name with as much emphasis as he could. He refused to think of Jacob as simply 'the giant' the way other people might. "We don't want to hurt you, I promise. We're here to help. Just like in the forest, when I helped you with your hand."  
  
The darkness turned Jacob into a foreboding shadow that loomed overhead and Sam could only guess where the next snatch would come from, with his light focused on Jacob's eyes to blind him. Unfortunately, that made Sam a perfect target, like there was a spotlight over his head.  
  
Recovering his feet, Dean stalked to the side, the shotgun leveled and ready to fire if he saw Jacob about to snatch Sam up. From where he was standing, he could make out the huge silhouette as it leaned forward to grab at Sam.  
  
Before Dean could get off a shot, a tree branch cracked overhead and only missed crushing him by way of a last second dodge to the side.  
  
"We can't have you distracting our giant, now, can we?" came a voice from the blackness in the forest.  
  
Every instinct in Dean's mind was buzzing. Their enemy had found them at last. It only took a second to figure out that Jacob's strange behavior must be linked to the presence in the trees.  
  
Dean held his shotgun at the ready, flinching from side to side as he sought out their enemy. "Finally showing your face?" he said, his gruff voice bouncing back at him. "Figured we wouldn't hear from you again.  _Cowards_  send others to do their dirty work."  
  
There was a snort of laughter from the other side and Dean twitched the gun in that direction, taking a few steady steps into the darkness between the trees.  
  
"Like you and your brother, you mean?" mocked the masculine voice. "Always charging in and putting yourselves at risk. This will be your undoing, and my giant will take care of you both."  
  
"No,  _Jacob_  won't," Dean said tartly. "He'd rather die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is about to get dicey.
> 
> So we've got just three more chapters! Which means I'll have an updated schedule soon and we'll start voting over the weekend... once I've had some sleep.
> 
> Normally I would want all this already done, but overtime at work is killing me, and I'm exhausted. Keep an eye out over the weekend for the next story poll.
> 
> Love you guys! Your kind words and spazzy comments keep us writing! 
> 
> **Next:** October 7th, 2018 at 9pm est


	27. Into the Maw of the Beast

Jacob's outstretched hand slammed into the ground as he leaned after Sam's retreating form. He closed his hand into a fist, fingers the size of a man gouging the earth. He could tell he'd missed and only grabbed dirt, because that light continued meandering backwards. He huffed and shook his hand absently to toss the dirt and mud away.  
  
After that, Jacob decided he was done crawling along the ground. Dean hadn't shot at him in a while, so he didn't pose a threat. Jacob could go after his first target at whatever pace he wanted.  
  
_No._  The thought came with a sting in the brand on his back. Jacob brushed it aside while his goal remained in place.  
  
He pushed himself up off the ground, looming even taller over the field behind the scrapyard than before. He didn't straighten out completely, but even hunched over he was taller than Bobby's house. Now, one step could clear more distance than he even needed, and his boot landed near the flickering light below with no regard for how much he shook the earth.  
  
The ground practically exploded around Sam from that stomp, and he was thrown off balance, the flashlight wavering in place. With Jacob so close, there was no easy way for Sam to aim at his eyes.  
  
"Dean!" he shouted, wondering what the hell had happened to his brother. The plan was to keep Jacob off balance until Sam could get through to him, and since Jacob's swipe and Dean's cursing, Sam hadn't heard anything out of the thicket of trees.  
  
Unless... Dean  _couldn't respond._  He could be injured or knocked out, or...  
  
Sam cut off that line of thought. There was no use dwelling on it during a fight. That would only get him killed.  
  
Changing tactics, Sam turned off the flashlight and darted for the field of grass. Hunched over, he ran as close to the ground as he could like when they'd arrived. Jacob had cut off his path to the forest with ease. If Dean was out of the fight, Sam needed a new tactic.  
  
The shotgun was heavy at his side, and Sam knew he’d have to use it if he couldn’t break through to Jacob. The list of possible outcomes of this fight was growing short, and they couldn’t afford a giant going on rampage. The list of casualties would be massive before someone was called in that could stop Jacob– and that was assuming that the military  _believed_  it.  
  
Jacob paused again, losing sight of his quarry. He shifted his shoe where he'd stomped it down, wondering for a moment if he'd landed it on Sam, but he didn't feel anything but dirt there. So he listened.  
  
There was some small commotion in the trees, but he didn't care much for that. He squinted at the grass below to try and spot Sam again. With that light gone and the night providing him no help, he couldn't find him at first. Any grass rustling could be caused by the wind, or possibly even his own breathing. Each exhale was like a gust of wind, high up in the air.  
  
He took another booming step into the open field, still squinting down at the grass. One hand snatched at what looked like a trail in the grass, but he found nothing and pounded his fist into the ground in frustration.  
  
Jacob glanced up from the ground, frustrated already with the blind chase. He straightened enough to see farther around, and his gaze zeroed in on a pattern of lights along the ground in the distance. A city, he knew, though he didn't remember or care which one.  
  
His stomach growled ominously over the field. Jacob considered his options. He could go after the city now, and miss out on catching Sam with that annoying little light. He glanced down one more time to see if he could track the little guy again.  
  
Seconds passed, and the field was still. Down on the ground, Sam held his breath in the hope that he could go unnoticed long enough to come up with a plan. That fist grinding into the ground was a sharp reminder of how helpless he’d be if Jacob got his hands on him while he wasn’t in his right mind.  
  
_Need to buy some time… keep him from the city…_  
  
Another gurgle from above interrupted Sam’s train of thought and he shot a furtive glance up at Jacob. There  _wasn’t_  any time. If Jacob took off for the city, Sam might not be able to catch him in time even if he took the Impala and gunned the engine.  
  
Blindly groping around on the ground, Sam’s hand fell on a tree branch, and his fingers curled around the bark.  _Perfect._  Waiting for Jacob’s eyes to pass over his hiding place, Sam aimed for the opposite direction, and hucked the branch for all he was worth.  
  
The  _thump_  of the branch against the ground prompted Jacob to lean closer again. His hand dove at the spot where he thought he'd heard it, but once again he found nothing. This time, he sifted his hand through the grass for a second or two to make sure he hadn't simply aimed poorly. With some flattened grass and some stirred up dirt, he was assured.  
  
He huffed in frustration, propped in a crouch with one hand. Once again, he scanned the area, looking for signs of someone creeping through the grass. His eyes were adjusting to the dark slowly but surely. He was confident that he would find what he was after eventually; he was the apex out here, without question.  
  
Unfortunately for Sam, it was starting to look that way. The grass surrounding him was no more than a few feet tall; either he had to crawl all the way through it to get away from Jacob or he’d have to reveal his hiding spot.   
  
Sam pulled out his flashlight. Unless he wanted to start shooting at Jacob, which would be a terrible plan unless he had a perfect shot, he needed to play it smart.  
  
“Hey!” Sam roared, flicking the flashlight on at the same instant and catching one of the dull brown eyes directly in its beam. Before Jacob could react to the influx of light, Sam tossed the flashlight in one direction and then booked it for the house. He needed an area that wasn’t so exposed, and it wouldn’t hurt to have weapons in reach. Already his mind charted the path to take to the Impala. Dean had flare guns in the trunk from the first time they’d hunted Jacob.  
  
Jacob balked from the light and his hand lifted to his face on reflex. He let out a noise of frustration and opened his eyes, scanning the grass for that light. He nearly lunged for it, but noticed that it wasn't moving. It lay abandoned, and he could hear the footsteps running in the opposite direction.  
  
Running away from him, breathing quickly, Sam's movement prompted the instincts in Jacob to rear their heads. He was the hunter, Sam was the prey. He had to give chase.  
  
Sam's legs were far too short to outrun a lunge from the giant. Jacob dove after the smaller man, finally too frustrated to even consider letting the chase go on any longer. His hand stretched out and knocked into Sam's back as he ran, closing around his body before he hit the ground. Jacob's triumphant grin was fleeting but feral as he yanked Sam back towards himself in a tight grip.  
  
Sam tried to scrabble free of Jacob’s grasp, his writhing legs closed tight in a fist. The fingers were too strong for him to kick free, and his hands glanced off Jacob’s skin as he tried to push free.  
  
Desperate to get through to Jacob, Sam tried to twist in place. Those brown eyes, formerly so friendly and kind no matter what he’d gone through, were now blank. Dangerous. Sam forced himself to meet them without flinching even as he tried to free the shotgun from Jacob’s grip.  
  
“Jacob,  _please!_ ” Sam said, his voice imploring as he prayed he wouldn’t be forced to kill their friend. “We want to  _help_  you, remember? We’re your  _friends._  We don’t want to fight. We just want to get you back to normal.  
  
“We’re  _so close!_  All we need is the blood from the guy that cursed you and you can go home to your family! Remember them? Mariana and Mike? You told me stories about them when we were waiting for Dean that time in the mountains. They  _miss_  you. You’ll be able to hug your mom again, you just need to fight this!”  
  
Jacob paused for a second, contemplating the feeling of someone so small struggling in his hand. The words fell on deaf ears, while he looked away from Sam to glance back at the treeline. He could swear he heard something from there earlier, and he  _knew_  he hadn't managed to dispatch Dean with his swipe. His grip on Sam tightened possessively for only an instant while he thought about going back to investigate.  
  
He looked back down at the person he had already caught. Few predators would ignore their current catch in favor of chasing down more. There was all the time in the world.  
  
His grip loosened and shifted just enough to pin Sam's chest with a thumb, and Jacob's other hand appeared. A thumb and finger pinched around the shotgun with a speed and a harsh strength that Sam couldn't hope to match in a million years to wrench it away. Jacob only had to pinch the weapon to completely neutralize the threat it posed to him, and then he dropped it to the ground below.  
  
“Dammit, Jacob, stop!” Sam grit out, the skin on his hand raw and red from the friction of the shotgun being torn away. His hand twitched in pain, but the twitch also hid the fact that the fast motion had an ulterior motive, and now Sam was holding one of his hidden knives. The strap that held it to his wrist was made to release the weapon when he was trapped or tied up, one of their many backup plans. He couldn’t count the number of times it had saved his life or his brother’s.  
  
Just like it might save his life now. Sam’s fingers curled around the tiny weapon and he prayed it would even make an impression against the giant. With his other hand, he tried to shove the massive thumb off his chest. His shoulders heaved, unable to take a deep breath. Hopefully bruised ribs would be all he’d have to worry about.  
  
“I’m sorry, but this isn’t  _you_ , Jacob,” Sam whispered, and plunged his knife into the side of Jacob’s thumb.  
  
Jacob winced and a hiss of pain escaped him. The sting in his thumb caused his grip to loosen in a surprised flinch, and he nearly dropped Sam right then and there. He caught the smaller man on the palm of his other hand before he could fumble any more and lose him. Fingers the size of Sam's body closed over him on reflex, locking Sam in place.  
  
Jacob glared at the side of his thumb where a tiny pinprick of a knife was sticking out. He brushed at it gingerly with the fingernail of his index finger and, though it widened the cut, it tilted the tiny weapon just enough to dislodge it from his thick skin.  
  
It didn't hurt all that much, but it enraged him enough to let out a huff of pure frustration.  
  
He opened his hand and glared down at the source of his annoyance. A finger and thumb pinched around Sam's middle and lifted him up in front of Jacob's face. His first catch, the tiny figure had been more of an annoyance than Jacob should have allowed. He was small and weak in Jacob's grasp.  
  
He wouldn't let the little guy cause him any more trouble. Without any further fanfare, Jacob tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and stuffed Sam into it whole.  
  


* * *

  
Darkness closed around Sam, and he writhed in place. A primal instinct rose up inside his chest, a fear of being  _swallowed alive_  making his breathing grow short and panicked and his pulse accelerate.  
  
He was in a mouth. He was in a  _mouth._  
  
The only rational thought Sam could call to mind was the desire to  _get out._  The ground was slick under his body, and something in him closed off the thought that it was a  _tongue,_  and the giant outside was  _tasting_  him that very moment.  
  
_Not Jacob. Jacob would_ never _do this to someone._  
  
Something in Sam knew that if Jacob went through with this, even if Dean managed to snap the teen out of it (if Dean was even still  _alive_ ), Jacob would never recover. There was no going back after killing a victim.  
  
That thought broke through Sam’s cloak of fear, enough to get him to try and scramble back up the slope that tilted under him. One of his hands brushed against a hard, smooth rock, and he flinched away. Teeth the size of his head surrounded him, and one fast movement from Jacob with them would be enough to crush Sam between them.  
  
“Jacob, please!” Sam cried out, his clothing growing heavy from the saliva that coated him. “This isn’t you! I  _know_  you’re still in there! Fight back!”  
  
What little light there was outside made it past Jacob's parted lips to give Sam a narrow view of the world. The giant didn't seal him off completely, but that tongue shifted threateningly underneath the claimed prey. Without any regard for Sam's struggling, it drew him further back in the mouth, away from his only safe exit.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob wasn't deterred at all by his usual gentle tendencies. The constant sting between his shoulder blades and the clouds in his mind remained, making him act exactly as all the stories said he should.  
  
He contemplated the next move. The fearful movements he could feel in his mouth brought immense satisfaction to his unlocked predatory nature. It was his reward for having caught the tiny creature, so said his newfound instincts. He closed his mouth for a second just to feel the reactive, frantic movements before opening it again.  
  
He had won, and he was smug about it even though he still had work to do.  
  
Not that Sam could know, but Jacob didn't plan to swallow his prey just yet. He'd be more likely to choke if he tried. For the moment he was content with keeping Sam in place. Jacob had time.  
  
He turned where he crouched to face the trees again, where he could swear he heard another tiny voice. Maybe two. Barely seconds after catching Sam for good, Jacob's mouth began to close so he could go searching for Dean.  
  
Then, he froze.  
  


* * *

  
Sam fought back with a growing desperation. His hands sought blindly for a place to grip so he could pull himself closer to the opening of Jacob’s mouth, hoping against hope the lips would open for him. Sealed shut, he had no way of forcing Jacob’s jaws apart. The muscles that surrounded Sam were stronger than his entire body.  
  
The slick surroundings kept Sam from finding purchase, and his body was buffeted by a tongue that was as big as he was, or bigger. It was too dark to tell, the only light from an infinitesimal crack in Jacob’s lips directly in front of Sam. It only served to illuminate strands of saliva that connected from the roof of Jacob’s mouth, a sharp reminder that the liquid coating Sam wasn’t water but instead was used to make him easier to swallow. One of his boots connected with a tooth near the back of Jacob’s mouth, and Sam shoved with all his might to push himself away from the gaping throat.  
  
Still, he didn’t give up hope.  
  
“Jacob, you can fight this!” Sam cried out, more fear in his voice than he’d heard since losing Jess. The echo of his voice sounded around where he was trapped and he couldn’t tell if it made it past Jacob’s lips. “This isn’t you! Snap out of it!”  
  
His hand managed to close over one of Jacob’s bottom front teeth, taking advantage of the cracks between the teeth and his relatively tiny hands. All he could do was hope Jacob didn’t notice because it would be simple for those teeth to snap through bone like so much bread. Sam somehow muscled his way closer to the front. He could feel the giant moving outside, and his heart dropped at the thought that he was already taken care of and Dean would soon be the target. Whatever had happened to the other hunter wouldn’t matter if the feral giant set his sights on him.  
  
Dean wouldn’t even  _know_  what happened to Sam. Living or dead, if Sam was swallowed down it wouldn’t matter. He’d die helplessly inside of someone he considered a friend while his brother was sent to the same fate.  
  
“Don’t let them win! Don’t let them make you their weapon!” Sam’s last effort pulled him one more foot, and he punched against the inside of Jacob’s teeth. Cool nighttime air slid past the tiny crack in Jacob’s lips, a complete reversal of the thick humidity and pulsing world he was trapped in. Sam scrabbled for purchase and found none, the teeth around him sealed shut and trapping him helplessly inside.  
  
The outside world was out of reach, and Sam knew that if Jacob couldn’t fight back from the spell, there was only one way out of the mouth for him to go for. “Please, Jacob,” he said, his voice near a whimper as the suffocatingly humid air around him stole it away and the movements of Jacob’s tongue sapped his strength every time he had to fight against it. “Please.”  
  
A wave of cool air hit Sam’s face, and he saw that Jacob’s mouth was briefly open. He caught sight of the forest where Dean was, and squeezed his eyes shut as Jacob started to move towards it. One of his hands stretched for the opening one more time, grazing off the inside of Jacob’s lip in a weak attempt to pull himself out as the lips began to close again. Dean was in trouble, and Sam could do nothing to help him.  
  
Sam barely questioned it when he felt Jacob freeze, assuming it was the end for him. Just one reflexive swallow, and it would all be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _There's_ the vore
> 
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	28. Release and Understanding

Jacob's heart pounded like a drum, and quickly as though he'd just run a marathon. The cool breeze around him was like being brushed with needles and he was so keenly  _aware_  of every sensation. Pain in his middle, an ache in his head. The telltale sting in his hands from tiny weapons. A burn on the back of his neck.  
  
Miniscule hands scrabbling for purchase  _in his mouth._  
  
 _Oh, God._  
  
There was a blurry, almost blank sequence of time in his recent memory. He woke up to the same pain in his shoulders that he felt now, and then his brain shut down. He only had snippets of what happened. A light shining in the darkness, splinters of pain from the sound of thunder.  
  
He didn't need them to know exactly what he must have done, thanks to the weakening struggles in his mouth, and a look of horror overcame Jacob's face. Before he could gag or spit whoever it was out, he lifted his hand to his face and opened his mouth wide. A finger and thumb reached in with as much haste as he dared to secure around their middle and pull them out.  
  
Jacob's other hand covered his mouth when he saw who it was, drenched in spit and barely moving.  _Sam. Oh, God. Fuck._  He felt a stinging in his eyes as it really sank in, what he'd almost done.  
  
Who he'd almost killed. Sam was the first person to listen to Jacob since he was cursed. He was the first person to look up and see not a monster, but just a lost, scared kid. He'd been on Jacob's side since he helped him take the bullets out of his hands, and Jacob had just repaid him by almost  _eating_  him. Trapping Sam in a cave that didn’t care or notice his struggles, sending him to the worst fate possible with a reflexive motion.  
  
"Oh, Jesus," he mumbled, at a complete loss. He doubled over where he crouched with one hand curled under Sam and the other covering his eyes.  
  
He dragged his hand down his face and heaved a sigh, trying to hold back the distraught emotions that raced through every vein. Right now, he wasn't the one who needed attention. He lifted his hand just enough to peer at Sam and tried not to think about the fact that he didn't even know where Dean was.  
  
"S-Sam," he said weakly. "Are you ... did you get hurt?"  
  
The words washed over Sam just like the wind from Jacob speaking. He heard the noise, but they were gone before comprehension set in. Adrenaline wracked his body and he clutched at the fingers close to him with a death grip, still trying to hold on and keep from being swallowed. Shudders shook him from head to toe in the cool night air, his hair flat against his head from the saliva that stuck to him.  
  
It was the cold that started to get through to him, more than anything else. He could remember the heat and the humidity, the way the world throbbed around him in Jacob’s mouth. A huge tongue moving him around like he was just an afternoon snack, an afterthought as Jacob decided to go after Dean for seconds.  
  
“D-Dean!” Sam blurted, his arms tightening around the finger he clutched. His eyes opened, and he could see  _light._  Moonlight drifted through the clouds above, illuminating the world around Sam, a world he’d thought gone forever as those lips sealed around him.  
  
His body shook at that memory. “I k-knew you could do it,” Sam said, practically babbling in his relief at seeing the world around him again. “I knew y-you’d b-break free.” He coughed, the motion harsh on his tender chest. More than one bruise was forming on his body already.  
  
Jacob was glad to hear Sam speaking in a mostly coherent tone. That relieved babbling helped ease his fear that he'd hurt Sam at some point in the last few minutes. Even so, he could feel the shivers wracking the small body on his hand, and he could  _see_  the way his damp hair and clothes clung to him. Jacob's stomach almost turned as he thought about the reason for that.  
  
Then, Sam's words caught up with him and Jacob went as white as a sheet. He glanced down and put a hand over his stomach, before looking at Sam again.  
  
Sam had been in his mouth when he came to. Jacob had no idea how he'd managed to break free of the hold on his mind, but it was almost too late. The spell forcing him to act the part of feral beast nearly claimed Sam as a victim. Had it already claimed someone before Jacob could come to his senses?  
  
"Where's Dean," he said, the words shaky and more of a statement than a question. He blinked a few times, trying to keep himself together, but it all depended on Sam's answer. "Sam, did ... did I...?"  
  
Sam couldn’t answer right away, his mind still scattered and roiling after the terror as he tried to find his equilibrium. He took a few quick, deep breaths of the blessedly cool nighttime air, thankful to be able to breathe without choking while shivering from the cold breeze as it reminded him how soaked he was.  
  
Clearing his throat, he finally managed to piece a coherent sentence together, knowing exactly what Jacob was thinking. Sam couldn’t imagine what had gripped Jacob’s mind moments ago, but he was glad that whatever else had happened, Jacob had come back to himself before that fatal last step.  
  
“It’s fine, he’s fine,” Sam managed to say between quick breaths that wouldn’t slow no matter how much he forced himself to try and breathe deeper. He was hyperventilating, and scrunched his eyes shut to concentrate. “I mean, he was fine when I saw him last and then we got split up when he was supposed to be running a diversion and I don’t know but he should be in the forest.”  
  
Sam leaned his head against Jacob’s finger, sighing at the warmth as the stream of words from his mouth finally let some of the tension and fear release. Never in his life had he expected to come so close to being swallowed alive. That kind of thing wasn’t supposed to be  _possible._  All of his instincts clamoured at him while he was held in those huge hands that had so recently shoved him into a mouth.  
  
He sighed. “I don’t know what happened to Dean,” Sam mumbled weakly, still drained of energy after fighting for his life. “He was supposed to cover me while I talked you down, but he stopped responding.”  
  
Jacob's relief was short lived. He might not have eaten Dean, but that didn't mean anything. Until they knew what had caused his strange snap, they weren't in the clear, and Jacob had half a mind to set Sam down and take off running, if only to put himself well away from anyone he might hurt if it happened again.  
  
Still, as he glanced around him and regained his bearings, he couldn't ignore the shivering on his hand. He might be the source of that shivering for several reasons, but Jacob hoped he could still make things right. He tucked his hand closer to his chest for safety and to block Sam from the wind, before rising to his full height again.  
  
"We'll go find him," he promised. "Then we can ... figure out what to do." What that might be, Jacob didn't know. If he snapped and couldn't stop it again, there'd be little they  _could_ do. While he had his mind in order, he would help.    
  
Sam let himself slump down into Jacob’s grip, letting the shivers slowly taper off as he was blocked from the wind. Jacob’s body heat started to find its way into Sam with the breeze gone. With his eyes fluttering shut, Sam tried his best to focus on slowing his breathing and composing himself. He needed time, but time might be something they didn’t have.  
  


* * *

  
“Show your face, you sonova _bitch,_ ” Dean swore angrily, twisting in place in the dark forest.  
  
All he could see around him was darkness and shadows. Laughter echoed around him, bouncing off the tree trunks.  
  
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you. My little hunter, I don’t need to do a thing. My giant’s going to finish off your brother, and then come back and finish  _you._  He won’t even break a sweat.”  
  
“You’re lying,” Dean growled. “Or delusional. Sam ain’t gonna be taken down by the likes of  _you._ ” He advanced a few steps, swiping aside a tree branch that was in his way.  
  
Nothing.  
  
“So, all this is just a  _game_  to you, isn’t it,” Dean said to keep the stranger talking. If he could hear where the man’s voice was coming from, he could track him. Out of the forest he could hear Jacob’s huge footsteps and Sam shouting up at him.  _C’mon, Sammy_. “You’re just getting your shits and giggles out of setting a guy who wouldn’t harm a fly against everyone he knows.”  
  
There was a scoff from the right, but when Dean crashed through the underbrush there was no one there. “You really think I’d waste my time on something as unimportant as a  _game?_ ” the man sneered. “Hunters. You’re all the same. Trumped up little men who think that a gun gives them the right to kill whatever they call  _supernatural_.”  
  
Dean scowled. “No one  _gives_  us the right,” he said flatly. “Just like no one gave you the right to take Jacob’s life from him.”  
  
“Jacob? That giant of mine has been a major thorn in my side ever since the spell took effect. It’s supposed to turn him into a mindless beast, a feral attacker. Instead, he goes all old-man-of-the-mountains on me and spends his days  _abducting cows._  I’m surprised he didn’t start raising them as pets already. I owe you hunters for giving me a trail to follow so I could find him. He won’t do me any good playing shepard so deep in the mountains that he never sees another human.”  
  
Dean lunged forward with his knife, slashing through a sapling that wavered in a breeze he couldn’t feel. This time, he saw a shadow leap backwards and had a throwing knife in his hand a second later. He flicked it through the air and heard a snarl.  
  
“Is that the best you’ve got?!” the man taunted, and the knife hurtled back at Dean. “You’re as useless as that giant of mine. At least before I reinforced his curse. Gotta make sure his silly mind doesn’t go stopping him from doing what he’s supposed to do.”  
  
Dean managed to twist out of the way of his knife, and this time brought his shotgun to bear. But, before he could get a lock on where the man was, the shadowy figure vanished again.  
  
“Your brother will die,” whispered a voice in Dean’s ear, though there was no one there when he turned. “He’s going to be Jacob’s first meal. Once a giant eats a human, there’s no going back for him. He’ll never be human again. And you’ll be Jacob’s  _second_  meal.” The shotgun was ripped from his hands and Dean’s late dive with his knife missed by a foot. The guy was  _fast,_  and he moved as silent as any hunter.  
  
They could hear the distant footsteps coming closer, and Dean finally got the man in his sights. A dark brown cloak blocked all but two glittering eyes. “Guess it’s all over for Sam if he’s on his way back,” the man taunted. “Now it’s your turn to join him. Another sacrifice for my giant to realize his true purpose… Killing off any humans that he sees. Getting rid of the stagnation of civilization and returning the world to its natural state. Such beautiful chaos we'll have.”  
  
Dean snarled and brandished his knife. “If Sam’s dead, you’re next!” He didn’t need a shotgun to finish this guy off. He’d do it with his bare hands if he had to.  
  


* * *

  
When Jacob reached the trees, he paused to look down at his hand. Sam, slumped on it, looked so small and vulnerable. Jacob's heart sank even further as he thought about how truly vulnerable he was, at least when a giant like him was involved. Sam was a seasoned hunter, trained to fight from a young age, and he'd offered no resistance at all when Jacob caught him.  
  
As Jacob ducked to enter the trees, he kept his hand close to his chest. For the moment he didn't want one of his only allies on the ground. He could barely see where he planted his feet out in the field, and in the trees it wasn't much easier.  
  
Hearing voices somewhere among the woods, Jacob crept towards them. Of course, it meant little when his boots were big enough to crush cars. Dean, whatever he was up to in here, would know Jacob was coming.  
  
It was the other voice he swore he heard that concerned him. Jacob doubted that someone who didn't know what was going on could speak without yelling or running around in a blind panic, just from the shaking in the earth. He'd seen plenty of people run in fear to know what effect he had. It could only mean one thing, and that meant Dean needed help, the same as Sam.  
  
Much like he'd done numerous times before, Jacob reached out to push aside a younger tree, bowing its supple trunk and partially pulling up its roots on one side. He squinted in the dark to see if he'd found the others, ever cautious to avoid stepping on a person.  
  
The priest chuckled, holding up an amulet. “It won’t matter that Sam’s dead for much longer,” he taunted Dean, jumping back from the hunter’s most recent lunge. “You’ll be with him in no time at all.”  
  
Angry lines were etched onto Dean’s face as he missed. His focus was divided between the giant behind him and the priest in front. He couldn’t afford to take his attention off either opponent. If Jacob lunged at him, he needed to be at the ready.  
  
“We’ll find a way to stop you,” Dean swore at the priest. “Kill me if you want, we’ve got backup. He knows what to look for.”  
  
The priest snorted, confidently standing in place. “Your friend won’t even have a  _house_  when he gets back from that ‘hunt' he’s on,” he said with a sneer. “I’ll make sure of that. Giant! Take care of this nuisance.”  
  
Jacob frowned deeper as the command rang out, and then realized that the shadowy stranger really did expect him to just kill Dean. The guy, whoever he was, didn't know that Jacob was back to his old self again, which could have been a benefit if Dean wasn't still in danger. For the moment, he didn't have time to give the man a second thought.  
  
"Dean," Jacob said instead, glad he was still okay (or at least alive). His free hand released the young tree to send leaves and twigs scattering from it as it sprang back, but they all bounced harmlessly off his sleeve as he reached past it.  
  
With haste, Jacob's hand curled around the hunter and scooped him up, shielding him from their strange attacker and removing him from the line of danger at the same time.  
  
The last sight Dean saw of the priest was the man turning on his heel to stride away into the forest, confident in the giant’s-- in  _Jacob’s_  ability to keep Dean under control. Then, a hand was sweeping down around him, and Dean couldn’t hear Jacob’s reassurances past the fear and anger in his head. Emotions drowned out any chance for those words to reach Dean.  
  
All he could think of was how Sam was gone, and what the priest had told him.  _Your brother will die. He’s going to be Jacob’s first meal._  
  
“ _No!_ ” Dean yelled, trying to toss himself to the side to get out of Jacob’s grip. His knife was already in his hands, and he lunged instinctively at the closest finger. “You’re not taking me without a fight!”  
  
Jacob didn't even have a chance to repeat Dean's name before that knife dug viciously into his skin and he winced. Even so, he didn't let Dean fall or let go of the determined hunter. He lifted him away from the ground so he'd no longer be underfoot, even as the blade sliced further along.  
  
It was no small part of Jacob that felt he deserved it. He'd nearly killed Sam, and he hadn't yet given Dean a reason to believe any different. He lifted the man to his chest anyway. "Dean, it's okay," he murmured.  
  
He brought his hands together, cupping them side by side. Sam and Dean were no longer separated, and they were held carefully despite the pain in one of Jacob's hands.    
  
“Dean, stop!” Sam called out from his perch on Jacob’s other hand. Despite the bone-deep weariness in him from his recent struggles for his life, Sam mustered enough energy to leap over to Dean’s side to put a hand on his brother’s arm. “It’s okay, we’re both okay now.”  
  
Dean blinked at Sam as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, then gasped in air that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Abandoning his knife, he grabbed Sam’s shoulders and pulled him close.  
  
And blinked.  
  
Sam got shoved back and both brothers fell on their asses. “Dude, what the hell?!” Dean said, trying to brush the slick liquid that clung to his pants and his jacket. “You couldn’t  _warn_  me? What did you do, go swimming in the pond?”  
  
Sam flushed red, sheepish at the reminder that he was more than a little messy, and the reminder of where he’d been just minutes ago. “It’s… a long story.”  
  
Jacob avoided looking at the pair for a few seconds, in order to dodge any eye contact. After what he'd done, guilt settled heavily on his shoulders more than ever before. Crushing a car or stealing cows to survive was one thing, but he'd almost killed Sam. He might never lose the memory of those tiny hands desperately trying to escape  _his mouth._  
  
He took a slow breath, glanced after where the mysterious cloaked figure had walked off, and then finally looked back at the two on his hands. Dean's knife remained buried in one of his fingers, but Jacob didn't have it in him to ask for its removal. "Dean, are you ... did that guy do any damage to ya?" One thumb curled inward and nearly brushed at Dean's little shoulder, before flinching back again.  
  
Dean’s expression flattened, and he glanced off Jacob’s hand with a scowl. “No, the bastard just grabbed my shotgun. He’s been playing games with me ever since I lost Sam.”  
  
“So that’s why you stopped shooting,” Sam said in realization. “I thought Jacob got you with his swipe.”  
  
Dean shook his head. “Nah, I dodged that,” he said. “The other guy must have been waiting for his chance. Chaos priest… whatever he is. Then he just bought time until we could hear Jacob coming. Seemed to think we were going to be sacrifices so Jacob could realize his full potential… killing off the town.”  
  
Jacob's stomach roiled at the very thought. He had already known he was meant to be a chaotic monster from what they'd found in their research. He was intended to destroy everything he saw for some lunatic's twisted goals. But the thought of his friends, his only friends in the world right now, being sacrifices to him only hurt worse.  
  
He didn't want to be a monster, and he didn't want to hurt anyone. He might have the power to level Sioux Falls with ease, but something in him had resisted taking advantage of that power all this time.  
  
"We should probably get to him before he tries anything else," he suggested, strengthening his own resolve. "Dean, would you mind, uh. Getting that knife?"  
  
Dean spotted his knife, still buried in Jacob’s skin to the side and leaving a noticeable trail of blood. “Shit, sorry,” he said, reaching over to pull out the blade. It came free with very little resistance, the bloody metal glinting in the moonlight.  
  
After a second of consideration, Dean wiped the blade off on the side of Jacob’s hand with a grimace, knowing to finish the case he’d need to bleed the priest and he couldn’t afford mixing Jacob’s blood with their enemy’s.  
  
“If we get this guy, we can end this now,” Sam said softly, staring up at Jacob. “Stop him by any means necessary.”  
  
Jacob sighed, knowing exactly what that meant. With Sam and Dean on one hand, he curled his fingers inward to guard them against falling when he pushed himself up with the other. At a low crouch and with the brothers safely in hand, he could crash through the woods without worrying about them.  
  
He moved in the direction that he'd seen the other man stroll away. He could not have gotten very far on his much smaller legs, so Jacob watched closely for movement on the ground, using sparse moonbeams as a guide.  
  
Seeing a fleeting shadow up ahead, Jacob lurched forward. He couldn't afford to let the guy get away, but even as he reached down with his free hand to shove the small form to the ground, he held back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Last:** October 14th, 2018 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
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	29. A Spell Unravels

With one hand over a squirming shape, Jacob held the other one out above it for Sam and Dean to see. "This is him, isn't it?"  
  
Dean’s grin was feral. “That’s the one. With his blood we can cast the spell.”  
  
“And put an end to  _all_  of his spellwork,” Sam said to remind them, “not just what he did to Jacob.”  
  
The tiny figure pinned to the ground by Jacob’s hand squirmed desperately to escape. “You’ll regret what you’re doing!” His shouts barely made it free of Jacob’s hand, and he did his best to twist in place and wriggle.  
  
Jacob’s grip held him stuck with barely any effort. A stream of emphatic curses leaked out from where the guy was trapped.  
  
“The supplies are in the house,” Sam said. “Think you can hang onto him and get us back there?” he asked Jacob. “We can’t afford him trying any other spells.”  
  
Jacob almost chuckled. He let a smirk do the job for him as he closed his hand around the chaos priest with ease. The man might have a lot of tricks up his sleeves, but he couldn't fight back against the strength he'd lent to Jacob to use any of them. "I think I got him," Jacob said confidently.  
  
When he stood, he held the hand with the Winchesters closer, shielding them from the branches around them. The chaos priest got a few slaps in the face from leaves and twigs as they all rose to Jacob's monstrous height, one that would soon be fixed.  
  
The trip back to the house was easy, with Jacob's stride covering so much ground at once. No one should be underfoot, though he watched every step just in case until he was picking his way around piles of wrecked cars to crouch by the house again.  
  
"Here we are," he announced, letting Sam and Dean to the ground with a carefully flattened hand.  
  
“I am a priest of chaos!” shouted a small voice from between the fingers of Jacob’s other hand. The struggles increased now that the nauseating journey was over and the man wasn’t being hauled through the air by his own giant. “You should all bow down in respect! I made you what you are, giant!”  
  
Dean snorted as he stepped down from Jacob’s hand. “I’ll get right on that,” he said sarcastically, proffering his knife as he stalked over.  
  
At the same time, Sam darted for the house. He knew where all the ingredients for the counterspell were gathered, having been the one to go through them after Dean brought them back from his various collecting missions. His arms were full by the time he got back outside, and he nodded at Dean.  
  
Dean was more than ready for his cue. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he said with a grin. “You’ve caused  _enough_  trouble for one lifetime.”  
  
The priest snarled. “You’ll regret it if you break my spells. I’ll curse you  _all_  to die a thousand deaths!”  
  
“Your magic will be gone and you won’t be able to curse a  _fly,_ ” Dean sneered, at the ready with his knife. “Just a little blood and a lotta spell, and that’ll be the end for all your plans for Jacob.”  
  
As if that was his cue, the hand locking the priest in lowered to the ground and opened, letting the man roll over Jacob's fingers to land in the dirt. Whatever the ritual entailed, the man needed to be in easy reach for Dean and Jacob was glad to help with that.  
  
Before the man could scramble away, Jacob shifted one of his boots forward. It didn't take any effort at all to pin the man to the ground with his head and shoulders free and clear for Dean to do what he needed.  
  
For a moment, he felt bad about using his size to such an advantage. Then, the moment passed and Jacob thought about his weeks on his own fending for himself without anyone listening, followed by the harsh reality nearly driving him over the edge.  
  
He would not thank someone for making him like  _this_ only to send him after a friend.  
  
With the priest safely contained and unable to cast any more spells, Sam started his recitation of the spell. His steady voice filled the air with ancient Latin, the words wrapping around the four people that were standing there outside of Bobby’s house. For the last few days, he and Bobby had carefully worked out the phonetic pronunciations of the phrases, determined to get the spell right the first time.  
  
Dean heard the phrase he was waiting for and leaned forward. The scuffed edges of Jacob’s boot filled his vision and he grabbed the priest’s arm, slicing cleanly into it in one seamless motion. The man writhed, spittle flying from his mouth as he tried to lash back at Dean, but there was no way for him to stop the hunter from filling a bowl with his lifeblood and stepping back towards Sam.  
  
Sam continued on, his eyes locking with Dean’s as he didn’t miss a word in the incantation. Dean held the bowl of blood out and Sam tossed the various herbs into it. A soft glow surrounded them as the magic drew power from Sam’s words.  
  
As his voice tapered off, Dean lit a match and dropped it into the bowl. Green flames licked their way up into the air, and he tossed the concoction at the priest to end the spell.  
  
The ritual faded from Jacob's awareness not a second later. There was a rushing sound, like wind closing in on him from all sides, and he was too dizzy to do much other than stare straight ahead before he pitched to the side.  
  
With a small amount of panic, his hands shot out to catch him before he could land on more cars and cause a lot of damage.  
  
Then, Jacob noticed the tuft of hardy grass under his palm. He closed his fist around it carefully, pushing the stalks together, and staring at the tops that poked out from his fist. He hadn't been able to feel grass as much more than a soft green fuzz on the ground for so long, he almost didn't know what he was looking at.  
  
Then, he looked up in surprise. He'd fallen to the side because his boot was suddenly not big enough to pin down the priest of chaos, and lost his balance. Sam and Dean stood there, with Bobby’s house beyond them. With Jacob on the ground, they were  _taller_ than him.  
  
"H-holy shit," he breathed, staring at them in a daze. "It worked," he pushed himself shakily to his feet. "It worked! I'm not a ... I'm normal!"  
  
To the side, the cowl the chaos priest was wearing sunk inwards, and a puff of old, grey dust left with the wind. Dean sidestepped it, clasping Jacob’s arm with a hand to help steady him. “You sure ‘bout that?” he asked wryly, looking at the fact that Jacob  _still_  stood taller than him, and even taller than Sam. The teenager had to be at least 6’5”. “Sammy, did you get those words right after all that studying with Bobby?”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. “What do you take me for?” He pointed at the decaying hulk on the ground near them. “If I got the spell wrong, this guy would still be alive.”  
  
Dean eyed up the pile and wrinkled his nose. “Guess that’s what you get for extending your life with magic, among other things,” he said.  
  
Sam gave Jacob a warm smile. “It’s good to finally meet you face to face,” he said.  
  
"Y-yeah," Jacob answered, smiling sheepishly. Back at his correct scale, it was strange to see Sam and Dean's faces in such clarity. Moments ago, their faces were so tiny that he couldn't see their features easily. Now, even though he was still taller, he was seeing them as he was supposed to. His smile widened.  
  
He thought he'd never be able to see things at his usual scale again. He was bedraggled and weary from weeks of fending for himself, but he was back, and he owed that to the Winchester brothers. "Guys, thanks," he said, practically beaming despite his weariness. "I know I've been saying it a ton, but really. Without your help..." he glanced down at the pile of tattered robes on the ground. The man probably would have found him in the mountains. Without Sam and Dean around to remind Jacob of who he really was, he could have done some serious damage before anyone stopped him.  
  
Sam winced at the sight of the crumpled robes on the ground. “We stopped him just in time, looks like,” he said as he bent down and liberated the chaos amulet from the desiccated pile. It glimmered in the air as Sam tucked it into his pants. “Now all that’s left is cleaning this mess up.”  
  
Dean sent the robes a passing grimace as well. “And getting you back home where you belong,” he said in agreement. He wrinkled his nose at Sam. “And  _showers_. You both need  _showers._ ”  
  
“No hug first?” Sam grinned, jokingly opening up his arms.  
  
“ _Hell_  no,” Dean declared as he dodged backwards. “I’d rather deal with  _that!_ ” He jutted a boot at the mess on the ground.  
  
“Deal!” Sam had a wicked grin. “We’ll go clean up, while you’re on  _clean up!_ ” His voice was smug over backing Dean into a corner where he had to deal with the body.  
  
Dean paused, his eyes moving rapidly as he went over the last few exchanges and scowled as he realized there was no good comeback.   
  
Jacob snickered. He'd seen that kind of banter from above for so long, it seemed newly amusing to witness it from the proper scale.  _Everything_  was more detailed again, as it should be. Even though he was exhausted, he couldn't help but be happy; he couldn't wait to get back home to his family and friends.  
  
"Ah, my bag is still in the woods," Jacob remembered, glancing across the field. Even from here, he could see the branches he'd broken, intentionally or otherwise, just from his movements. His bag should have returned to normal like him, so suddenly it wouldn't be the easiest to find. "... Maybe I'll wait 'til tomorrow to go get it."  
  
“We’ve got time,” Sam said gamely. “But I’ve got dibs on the shower first!”  
  
With that, he ducked away, leaving Dean to clean up the mess the priest had left at the conclusion of the spell. Dean scowled, then spotted Jacob still close by. “You lookin’ to help out with this?” he asked with a glower as he scooped up the robes and sent the dust scattering. “I’m sure I can find you a shovel to help bury it!”  
  
"Oh, yeah, sure," Jacob replied, ready to help out. His tired voice and body notwithstanding, Dean had done a lot to help him out and he wouldn't leave him to the task on his own. "Lead the way."  
  
Leading the way seemed to be one of Dean's strong points. They managed to track down a shovel for Jacob to use, and then a small plot to dispose of what was left of the body. The work was arduous, especially past the first few layers of dirt, but eventually all of the evidence of the chaos priest and the counter spell were thrown in to be covered up for good.  
  
It struck Jacob that he'd just dug a grave, without questioning it. It was far from the weirdest thing he'd had to deal with lately.  
  
When they were nearly done, he glanced back to the house. "Been a while since I could fit inside a building that wasn't a warehouse," he commented with a sheepish grin. Over the few days staying there, he had tried once or twice to peer into the windows of the house, much to Bobby's chagrin. Now he could probably fit through most of the windows. "Good to be back."  
  
“Good to have ya back,” Dean said. He was pleasantly surprised at the way Jacob had helped him with the remains, expecting him to duck out the same way Sam had. He really had to find out what they’d gone through that had left Sam in such a bedraggled and exhausted condition. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes they’d been apart and Sam barely looked like he could keep his feet under him.  
  
Those were mysteries for another day. For now, there were more important things to consider. Jacob was finally back to normal, which meant he could not only fit into the house, but he could also eat food without the worry of going through their entire stash. Not that Bobby had much left around with the Winchesters there for the last few days and running around trying to scrounge up enough food to feed a giant.  
  
“C’mon. Once Sam pries himself outta the shower you can have a turn. I think there’s some hot dogs in the freezer. Bobby usually saves himself a pack. He’s always complaining that we eat him out of house and home.” Dean lead Jacob towards the house, gamely chatting on to relieve what tension was left between them. “Can’t let him down this time.”  
  
When they made it back and Jacob had his chance at a shower, he lingered just to feel the warm water. For so long, he'd been relying on cold lake water at best, and to have running water again helped him to wash away some of the stress. The rest would wear away in time, he was sure, now that the whole ordeal was over.  
  
After everyone had cleaned off from the day(or, in Jacob's case, the last few weeks), they broke into Bobby's stash from the freezer, just as Dean predicted. It wasn't precisely a meal of champions, but it was food, and plenty of it. Jacob didn't require a truckload anymore to fill up.  
  
They'd all earned a rest, and the brothers didn't begrudge Jacob one of the spare beds in Bobby's house. Once he settled on it, his weary body was like a marionette with the strings cut; exhaustion struck him all at once. For once he had a bed instead of the hard ground to rest on, and his weary body was ready to take advantage.  
  
He was asleep in moments.  
  


* * *

  
In the morning, bright light filtered in and found where Jacob rested with an uncanny aim. His brow furrowed and his eyes shut tighter for several seconds, and he rolled over, tugging at the edge of the cover to shield himself.  
  
It didn't come with him. Jacob opened his eyes in confusion and turned his head, wondering if maybe the blanket was caught on the other end of the bed or something. He froze at the sight before him, still blinking owlishly.  
  
Jacob sat up straighter and rubbed desperately at his eyes, hoping to find that he'd confused himself in the unfamiliar environment after everything he'd been through. When he opened his eyes again, he still stared across an expanse of a bed that had barely fit his height when he first fell asleep. Now, If he had to guess, and he was pretty sure he'd be correct, he was barely more than four inches tall compared to the world around him.  
  
"Fuck _dammit._ "  
  
 **FIN....?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
> ... Or is it?
> 
> Stay tuned with us on October 31st when our next story starts posting! Dean of Nowhere was voted in with a majority of 51 of 100 votes! This story is the long-awaited sequel to Sam of Wellwood, the start of the Brothers Asunder storyline! Check out the story tumblr for a special sneak peek to this story, and get ready for a ride!
> 
> Thanks for coming with us on this journey!
> 
> **Next:** To be continued.....?


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